Back to the future
by Narcissa1
Summary: He has the power to change the past, the knowledge to change the future, the time to save the present but does he also have the heart to change everything he has ever known, to risk too push the world into a chaos greater then the dark ages before Camelot
1. Default Chapter

Back to the future is a time-travel story with a twist: Harry goes back in time to teach his parents DADA – but not only in their seventh year but during their whole time at Hogwarts. He also doesn't attempt to change the future but instead tries to bring hope to the hearts of his students. This is a super-power-Harry story but his powers will have a reason. I'm not sure yet if I will cover all seven years and in which depth but that is for later.  
  
**_ Back to the future: part one  
_**  
How did he talk me into this?  
  
It was shortly after dawn and eighteen year old Harry Potter looked up to the majestic castle that was Hogwarts.; if anybody would have been close they would have been able to hear the young man who looked around twenty- five murmur "I'm home."  
  
But no-one was around to hear his whisper as all living inhabitants of the castle were still asleep. The headmaster of the school, for that is what the castle was, was awaiting him at seven, testing if he would be awake at such an hour – at least that was the Albus Dumbledore of his time had told him.  
  
Harry still could not believe himself that he had allowed his mentor to talk him into travelling to the past and teach for SEVEN YEARS Defence against the Dark Arts – and if that wasn't worse enough he would be teaching his own parents, Sirius, Remus and Snape along with some other "nice" characters like the Lestrange brothers, Bellatrix Black, Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy... Hell, he would be teaching nearly all future Death Eaters. He would teach them most of what they would use in later years to torture and kill.  
  
Would it be his fault they turned dark? Would he be responsible for the choices they made? This thoughts plagued him as he made his way up to the castle. His only bright thought was that Remus and even Sirius had spoken highly of their Defence teacher – among other things Sirius had mentioned once that something that teacher had said made them chose to become animagi.  
  
The front doors of the castle were still closed as Harry tried to open them so instead he started to get reacquainted with the grounds, the Whomping Willow was not net planted but other then that everything was as he remembered it from his own time more then twenty years in the future.  
  
A noise from the front doors drew him back to the castle where he encountered a man that looked nearly as old as professor Dumbledore. Not waiting for Harry to introduce himself he pointed his wand at him and demanded a name and a reason why he was there. Taken slightly aback Harry answered, remembering that for the first time since he had entered the magical world no-one knew who he was.  
  
"Good Morning, I'm Harry Andrews and here to apply for the Defence post – I'm a little bit to early."  
  
The other wizard eyed he sceptically before he lowered his wand and stepped outside.  
  
"Join me!" was all he said before he started to walk to the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Only when Harry didn't move did he turn around.  
  
"I'm Charles Mortimer the Potions Master of this school. Now would you please join me to the forest as I have to collect some herbs and would like company!"  
  
Once again he turned away from Harry and all he could think was that he would not turn his back to a possibly dangerous stranger. It was unsurprisingly easy to fall in step with the old wizard who was walking rather slowly.  
  
"What are we collecting?" he knew that there were not many herbs that had to be collected on this special morning, the morning after a full moon but for many other herbs it didn't matter at which time they were collected.  
  
"Aconite, you would probably know it as wolfs-bane..."  
  
At this Harry grinned: "or monkswood...!" oh yes, he remembered his first potions lesson very well.  
  
"Yes, also as monkswood. Are you interested in potions?" Mortimer now seemed interested in his young companion not many wizards were interested in potions and even fewer became potions masters – maybe he could steer this young man away from Defence against the Dark Arts and interest him in a potions-mastery.  
  
"No, not really: I did take NEWT´s in it but I never loved it since my teacher hated me. I can brew everything I need like most of the medical potions and stuff like that but I fear that I will never do more. My first love has always been Defence – even though most of my Defence teachers were even more horrible then my potions teacher... most of what I know of it I have thought myself..."  
  
he was interrupted by the incredulous question of the potions professor.  
  
"And then you apply for a post as a professor when you have thought yourself most of it? We need a competent teacher not some young man who fancies himself able to teach!"  
  
Not in the slightest faces by the others speech Harry stopped and looked at the wizard who was a few inches taller then himself.  
  
"I am an Andrews – do you really think I would have learned from competent teachers to DEFENT myself against the Dark Arts?" he raised an eyebrow at the older man who in turn looked startled at him as if he had only now heard his name for the first time.  
  
"Andrews you say? A relative of Reginald Andrews?"  
  
Harry mock bowed at the other man before answering:  
  
"May I introduce myself? The name is Henry James Reginald Andrews – son of the recently deceased Reginald Perciwal Andrews."  
  
Inwardly Harry cringed, yes, he was a relative of Reginald Perciwal Andrews but not his son but his grandson – a fact that he kept quiet as much as possible: Andrews had been Grindewalds most loyal servant but had escaped before Dumbledore had been able to kill him too. What no-one knew was that he had fled to the muggle world had simply change his name and married a muggle with whom he later had two daughters – a witch named Lily Marie and a squib named Petunia Rose.  
  
Lily had gone to Hogwarts – more precisely would come that year – and would later marry James August Potter with whom she would have himself.  
  
He watched as the older wizard processed that he was the son of one of the darkest wizards the last century had seen.  
  
"So you are Reginalds son...I taught him potions while he was here at school... Never thought that a Huffelpuff would turn dark."  
  
At this Harry did a double take: "He was in HUFFELPUFF? I always thought that he was a Ravenclaw – he certainly never told me differently!"  
  
Charles Mortimer laughed at the near indignation on the young mans face: Reginald Andrews in Ravenclaw? Certainly not! He had been one of those students who only opened a book when absolutely necessary but relied for everything else on his more then large inheritance; but even then he had been not ambitious enough for Slytherin – and definitely not brave enough for Gryffindor.  
  
They walked the rest of the way to the forest and as they continued to talk it was only about potions – a subject the young man knew quite well despite's what he had said. When they walked back to the castle they were just in time for Harrys job-interview to which Charles joined him as Harry would need every help he could get when Albus heard his ancestry.  
  
Indeed the headmasters first question was whether Harry was a relative of Reginald Andrews or not.  
  
"Yes, as I already told Professor Mortimer the Reginald Andrews who was Grindewalds right-hand-man was my father who lost oh so sadly his life in an accident earlier this year...and before you ask I have no wish to become a Dark Lord or a follower of one."  
  
Albus Dumbledore watched the young man before him closely, it was not often that he met someone who held such a power as this young man did. He was not sure if he should trust him, especially as a new dark Lord was gathering followers but his written application had so far been the most promising – even though he had no former teaching experiences.  
  
It was Charles silent assurance that made him trust the young man in the end – even though his deputy looked trusting he had a very special and rare gift: he could see intentions. If this Henry Andrews would have planned to follow his father Charles would have never sat there calmly drinking his tea. So it took only a few tests before it was decided that the son of one of the most feared Dark Lords would become their new Defence against the Dark Arts professor.


	2. Red as dried blood

** Back to the future: part two**

Harry loved to be back at Hogwarts, even though some of his most painful and horrifying memories had taken place at the ground of this wonderful castle he loved it.  
  
It had been one week ago that he had become the newest addition to the staff but he already was on friendly terms with all of his colleagues, especially Charles Mortimer and Minerva McGonagall. Most of the professors had been reserved at first when they learned that he was the son of THE Andrews but opened when they had met him.  
  
Currently he was making his way through Diagon Alley after having opened an account in Gringotts with some of the money he had inherited from his parents, Sirius and his grandfather. He dreaded the next stop he had to make: in the final battle between Voldemort and himself his wand had exploded he had killed Voldemort through a second Priori Incantatem. It had been one of the most beautiful and at the same time horrible experiences in his life, while Voldemort had send a killing curse at him he had sent at the same moment the exact opposite, a spell to free someone's soul while destroying the possibility of resurrection.  
  
Both spells had travelled through Voldemorts wand and entered his body while setting his wand aflame, utterly destroying it; at the same time his own wand had exploded due to the magical connection the existing between brother-wands and the immense magical backlash of destroying such a powerful wizard as Voldemort. He had awoken more then a week later in the hospital wing with a new scar on the back of his right, his wand-hand in form of a phoenix feather, a second animagus form and more power then any wizard had had since the days of Merlin  
  
Ollivanders was the same as it would be the summer before his own first year. The first thing Mr Ollivander did after he had told him that he needed a new wand was ask him to take of the silver glove he had started to wear after the final battle. He had never seen the older man shocked till the moment he saw the faintly glowing scar.  
  
"Mr Andrews, where did you get this mark?"  
  
Harry sighted, he had NOT wanted this to happen! He had read what that mark meant, what it meant to be marked by a phoenix because that was what the mark meant: Fawkes had marked him as a Phoenix child, a chosen of the phoenix. His second animagus form was a black phoenix or Shadow phoenix, he had all the magical abilities of a phoenix even in his human form and the mark was a way to show all this. Like his scar he could not get rid of it – but thanks to his phoenix powers he was able to conceal his lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.  
  
"I got it when my wand exploded due to a Priori Incantatem – its core was a phoenix feather. Since I bought my first wand my powers have grown immensely and even before it exploded I was in need of a new wand."  
  
He had to control himself not to shift under the intense grey eyes that were watching him from behind those glasses as Mr Ollivander spoke:  
  
"No wand I have in my store will fit you – or anyone with a mark such as yours, but if you will come with me I will be able to make you a wand that will only be able to be handled by you and the phoenix who choose you."  
  
Mystified Harry followed Mr Ollivander to the back of his shop and through a small door into a workroom The walls of the room were filled with boxes, each labelled and closely shut. A few of the boxes were taken down by the old wand maker and set on a work table were he opened them.  
  
"Come here, young man and let these materials choose you – hold your hand closely over them and wait for them to react."  
  
The first box he then opened contained silver metal cubes but were quickly snatched from under his hand with a murmured "No, definitely not, he has to much power." This process repeated itself for over an hour and almost all of the boxes were discarded till only one was left.  
  
"Hmm, I wonder if this will do... it is the last but does he have enough power – more important is he light AND dark enough to handle it?"  
  
Harry was not sure if he was supposed to hear the musings of the old wizard but couldn't help but wonder what he meant. The metal in the box before him was unlike any other he had ever seen, it was a dark red like a drop of blood that had just started to dry and seemed to glow. As he held his hand over the metal the glow intensified and he felt his hand grow warm.  
  
"Odd, how very odd... now we must chose a core – a phoenix feather would not do for one such as yourself, I wonder..."  
  
Not finishing his sentence he hurried over in a second work room and came back holding several boxes and vials.  
  
"Here, try this" and he trust a vial filled with a pearly red liquid into Harrys hand, "the first tears of a Daylight Vampire."  
  
The sensation that filled Harrys hand was just like that seconds ago with the metal only much weaker.  
  
"Yes, they will do but are not enough...maybe Basilisk Venom?"  
  
Unlike before Harry got no reaction from the liquid contained in the small vial and it was quickly snatched his hand only to be replaced by others. The all of sudden Ollivander handed him a jar with a silver-white powder:  
  
"Here, try this – powdered horn of a Unicorn... unusual but then nothing about your wand will be usual, no, absolutely nothing!"  
  
Indeed his hand grew warm as he held the powder. As soon as Mr Ollivander saw this he shooed him out of his shop, telling him that he should be back in an hour to collect his wand. Bemused Harry left Ollivanders to take a look around Diagon Alley and since he was already there he could as well fill his stock of sweets.  
  
With a grin he thought that he should buy extra bars of chocolate now that he was Defence professor, if not for the use of the students then at least for himself. An other candy he bought were Blood-drops, small blood- flavoured drops that he had become nearly as addicted as the headmaster to his lemon-drops. If he thought of it he himself was disgusted that he liked anything that tasted like blood but together with Mint-leaves they were very addictive!  
  
After a quick stop to buy the newest broom – after all he wouldn't give up on flying just because he was a few years in the past – he went back to Ollivanders were he was already eagerly awaited.  
  
"Ah, yes Mr Andrews! I have just finished your wand – a very powerful combination you have! It is always a honour to make such a splendid wand – I can only hope that you won't misuse it!"  
  
A smile spread over Harrys face as he took the completed wand for the first time into his hand, his first wand had felt perfect but that feeling had been nothing against what he was feeling at that moment. Warmth spread through him like the time Fawkes had healed him but also power like he had only felt the second before his first wand had exploded in his hand.  
  
Absently he promised Mr Ollivander that he would never misuse his wand and asked with more attention what metal had been used.  
  
"I wondered when you would ask..." Ollivander smiled, "the name of the metal is Mithril or Dwarven-Silver as only they are able to find and mine it. It gained its colour when it was first melt in dragon fire and later burned with a phoenix. The red comes from the contact with the blood of a phoenix. Only a Grey-wizard such as yourself will be able to even touch the wand but only you will be able to wield it....  
  
Tell me Mr Potter, why did you come to the past?"  
  
If Harry was startled at this question he didn't show it but answered as if he had expected the man before him to know who he really was.  
  
"A mutual friend of ours has decided that I should teach for a few years – even though you and me are the only once in this time who know from where or when I really come. He believes me to be my grandfathers son and quite a few years older then I am."  
  
A genuine smile spread over the old mans face as he locked at Harry:  
  
"That will be twenty-eight Galleons and four Sickles Mr Potter – and if you ever need someone to talk about your real self feel free to come by at any time."


	3. Blood drops and Daylight Vampires

Back to the future: part three  
  
He had done it, he had talked Albus Dumbledore into allowing him to travel with the Hogwarts Express. Surprisingly the argument that brought him the admission was that he had never had the chance to use the train as a child – the added safety of the students had been shrugged of.  
  
The station and train were slowly filling with students and teachers and Harry watched fascinated as his father and grandparents entered the station. It was the first time he saw his grandparents he had never even seen pictures of them. His grandfather looked a lot like his father and like he had looked earlier that year: messy black hair and with glasses framed brown eyes; his grandmother had also black hair but hers was straight and her eyes were dark blue. Both of them were fairly tall and Harry wished not for the first time that he had gotten to know them – maybe now he had the chance while he was teaching their son.  
  
He had to stop himself from sneering as he saw his aunt Petunia enter the station, her face set into a permanent scowl. Lily and her mother looked around fascinated, only Harry knew why Mr Eavens had not accompanied his family: most glamory flared after crossing the barrier and he could not risk being seen here where so many wizards and witches could recognise him as Reginald Andrews, mass murderer and right hand of Grindewald.  
  
The next family was equally shocking, he recognised four of them instantly: Sirius, who was followed by a smaller boy presumably Regulus, a little blond girl around Regulus age – Narcissa, a tall stern looking woman who's screaming voice Harry would never forget – Sirius mother Mrs Black – and the last he recognised was a exceptional beautiful girl with long black locks: Bellatrix Black, Sirius cousin and murderer. But as much as Harry tried to convince himself to hate this girl he could not imagine this innocent smiling girl as the cruel insane woman he had met.  
  
Not long after the Blacks had entered the station his compartment door opened and a small sandy haired boy entered and asked Harry shyly if the other seats were taken. Only after the boy had sat down Harry realised who it was.  
  
"I'm Harry Andrews and you?" he asked the child already knowing the answer.  
  
"Remus Lu.." the boy started but was interrupted as the door opened again to admit his father James Potter. His first thought was that James reminded him of Draco Malfoy as he strode into the compartment as if he owned it.  
  
"Hi, I'm James Potter, who are you?" he asked as he plopped down on a free seat.  
  
"Remus Lupin"  
  
before Harry could answer the door was opened again and Sirius came in and sat down without introducing himself. Only as he noticed the stares of the other three inhabitants of the compartment did he open his mouth.  
  
"I'm Sirius Black – and I didn't want to sit with Trixi and Cissa they're so girlish!"  
  
Harry had to laugh at the indignation in Sirius tone as he spoke about his cousins.  
  
"You know that they ARE girls, don't you? By the way I'm Harry Andrews."  
  
Harry had no intention to tell them just yet that he was one of their professors, here he had the one chance to witness the beginning of the legendary Marauders, of a friendship that lasted until their death – at least for the three who were already present. For most of the journey he was ignored by the boys and was able to pretend to read a book he had bought the other day in Diagon Alley.  
  
His solitude was only interrupted as the lady with the trolley came and he bought his favourites. As soon as they were once again alone Sirius started to talk to him:  
  
"Blood drops? How can you eat them Harry! That is absolutely disgusting! Only Vampires can eat that!"  
  
to which James suggested helpfully that maybe he was a Vampire – only to be shot down by Sirius that that was impossible as the sunlight streamed into their compartment.  
  
Chuckling Harry answered sucking on one of said drops and a Mint Leave, a mint-flavoured candy filled with liquid mint-cream.  
  
"Are you sure about that, Sirius? There ARE Daylight Vampires who have absolutely no problem with sunlight. Of course they still live on blood but apart from that they could nearly pass as living humans..."  
  
seeing the shocked and almost frightened expressions of the three boys he continued after popping a new piece of each candy into his mouth:  
  
"No, I'm not a Vampire – Daylight or normal – but you have to try these sweets, they are way better then Dumbledores Lemon drops! And the taste comes from a potion, not real blood."  
  
He REALLY enjoyed the shocked looks of the future Marauders. It was not commonly known that Daylight Vampires existed as there were only a handful in the world. They were created like normal Vampires by a bite but didn't become normal nocturnal Vampires like their sires because they were innocent. Only someone with a pure heart would be able to become a Daylight Vampire.  
  
And despise what he had said Daylight Vampires did not live solely on blood – yes, they needed it once in a while to survive but they could live for months on end without it and could consume normal food like living humans. He supposed that an infant would become a Daylight Vampire if turned.  
  
Soon he was once again ignored by the three boys as they or more precise James and Sirius started to discuss the best way to prank people they didn't like – much to Harrys amazement they were still fairly tolerant concerning the house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin since Sirius expected to be a Slytherin, James to be a Gryffindor and Remus suspected he would be in Ravenclaw like his parents had been.  
  
Even before the train rolled into the station Harry stood up, said good-bye to the three first years and apparated out of the train to his chambers where he quickly changed into the emerald robes he had bought on his last visit to Diagon Alley before he had travelled to the past. Before leaving his rooms he looked into a mirror controlling if his scar was still covered. It still amazed him how unlike his father he looked now that he had grown his hair out to nearly Dumbledores length and wore it in a loose ponytail and no longer wore glasses thanks to a potion-spell combination Hermione had unearthed in their seventh year in the depths of the library.  
  
The ageing potion he had taken before coming here let him appear twenty five instead of just eighteen – a fact that he had omitted even from Dumbledore because who would hire someone who was just out of school to teach? Even Dumbledore was not that crazy.  
  
As he entered the great hall before the first carriage reached the castle he met the inquiring gaze of the headmaster with a shrug and sat down in the place next to Charles with whom he talked till Minerva led the first years in. Much to his charging he didn't listen to the hats song as he was watching his parents and the others he knew to intently. Only as Black, Sirius was called did he really pay attention.  
  
It didn't take long before the head shouted GRYFFINDOR and most of the hall quieted down before the Gryffindor table started to clap followed by the others except Slytherin. To Harrys surprise it was a lone black-haired girl from Slytherin who joined the clapping much to the disgust of the others from her house especially her blond haired sister Narcissa. Harry nearly choked on his glass wine as he saw that Sirius and Bellatrix were apparently on friendly terms for it didn't seem as if she only clapped because he was not in her house.  
  
So what had happened to make the Bellatrix Black to the hateful murderer Bellatrix Lestrange he had met?  
  
Please review! 


	4. He never expected to survive

Back to the future : part four  
  
Today would be his first day of teaching – well his first official day of teaching, the DA did not really count – and Harry was a nervous wrack. To make things even better – eh worse -he would start with the fifth year Slytherin/Huffelpuff class, Dumbledore really knew how to torture the students. He waited for the gong signalling the beginning of the lesson before he strode into the classroom giving a good impersonation of Snape in his third year when he had substituted for Remus.  
  
"Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen you are now sitting in your first OWL class so pay attention if you have the desire to pass them. I certainly don't care if you fail as it would only mean less work for me in the next two years so I won't help anyone who does not pay attention in this class.  
  
For anyone who did not pay attention on the beginning of the year feast my name is Professor Andrews and I'm hear to drill some knowledge into your heads.  
  
The lesson will be following an easy scheme: during the single period we will have discussions over the current topic and during the double period I will teach you everything you have to know to pass your OWL's and haven't learned in the last four years.  
  
Your homework will consist of two essays per class, each between one and two foot long, I don't expect that everyone always writes two feet but you won't get by by always handing in just one foot. The first of the essays consists of your normal homework and is ALWAYS to be turned in during the next lesson, the second will be a discussion of a question or theory I give you and is to be turned in EXACTELY one week later.  
  
Any questions so far?"  
  
He did look around the class to find only disdained faces – apparently their last Defence teacher had NOT been very effective.  
  
After a minute he continued with a roll call giving an inward sight as he called out Malfoy, Lucius; Rosier, Eavens and Lestrange, Rudolphus. His first class and already he had to deal with three future Death Eaters.  
  
"Since this is only a single period we will start the term with a discussion:  
  
What makes a Dark Lord a Dark Lord in comparison to his followers?"  
  
As no one answered he snapped at them:  
  
"Begin, you don't have to raise your hand but wait till the person before you has finished their thought."  
  
It was almost amusing to see the students squirm – even the Slytherins did not want to answer that question, oh yes, this was going to be VERY amusing!  
  
Surprisingly it was Amos Diggory, Cedrics father, who broke the silence:  
  
"Because the are more powerful then their followers?!" the rest of the class murmured in agreement and Harry and revised his earlier thought: the class would not be fun but bloody annoying if it continued that way.  
  
"No, that is only sometimes the case but more often they are not more powerful but have other advantages: how about they were the first of their generation to find others stupid enough to follow them? Or they were charismatic enough to talk others into following them? There would also be the fear factor...  
  
Now that I have done most of your work continue with your "discussion" ... oh and five points to Mr Diggory for taking part in the lesson."  
  
The rest of the lesson was much more enjoyable for Harry, his disregard for Dark Lords having vexed the Slytherins but also some Huffelpuffs to the point were they thought it their job to protect the honour of said Dark Wizards. Secretly Harry was surprised and pleased that none of the students had caught on with his last name; he had no desire to explain to them who his supposedly father was.  
  
Harry was glad as the first day of classes was over and he had more respect then ever for his professors, yes even Snape. During some of his classes he had been ready to hex his students – and it was only the first day, how was he to survive the next seven YEARS?  
  
He was especially close to lose his patience with those students that would become Death Eaters in the future – he knew that he could neither save nor change them but also that he could not hate them for things they had yet to do; otherwise he would become like Voldemort who had tried to kill him just because a prophecy said that he would sometime in the future be able to defeat him.  
  
Now he was even able to understand why Snape had always been in such a bad mood: he couldn't imagine how it must be like to teach when you saw that most of your students weren't interested in the subject you tried to teach them as was the case with potions. Most of the Hogwarts graduates never touched a cauldron again after their last potions-class and would instead buy the potion they needed. Still that was no reason to be a bastard to the students – at least he had the choice to be there, the students hadn't. ) ( ) ( ) That night Harry dreamed for the first time since he was in the past of the final battle, it was not a nightmare but also not a memory. Every other time he had dreamed about the battle he had relived it but this time he took the place of an observer watching every fight that took place while he duelled with Voldemort. For the first time he saw what happened after his wand exploded in his hand, how he fell seemingly lifeless to the ground only to be picked up by Fawkes who had appeared as the strands of magic connected from the two brother wands. He saw hoe the phoenix fire-travelled with him in his claws and reappeared in the Hogwarts infirmary where he cried onto Harrys completely burned hand till it healed leaving only the small scar in form of a phoenix feather.  
  
Harry was terrified as he saw how Neville was tortured by three Death Eaters before he managed to get away and kill Bellatrix Lestrange the woman who had tortured his parents into insanity and had killed Sirius. Or as he saw how Amos Diggory the quiet boy he taught and the proud father of Cedirc hunted down the murderer of his son.  
  
Every member of the DA was fighting alongside the teachers ensuring that as many Death Eaters as possible went down even when they could not make sure if Voldemort would die that day.  
  
The Priori Incantatem in his fourth year had been impressive but what Harry relieved as he watched the final battle, the final hours of Voldemorts life was breath-taking. As soon as Harry had been able to force the golden bubbles of magic that connected their wands to travel back into Voldemorts wand all the spells that had ever been cast with it re-emerged from it. Harry watched every spell Voldemort ever learned, every person he had ever murdered or tortured, he saw Thomas Riddle senior emerge from the wand as well as his wife and small daughter Voldemorts family, his father, stepmother and half sister.  
  
He saw that Tom Riddle juniors first spell he ever used had been a healing spell; the small boy must have looked it up in the library as it was a spell that was only taught in seventh year charms. What could have made it necessary for a eleven year old child to know such a healing spell?  
  
It was with that thought that Harry woke up; why had Tom Riddle needed that knowledge? It was only after his fourth year that he had started to use dark spells, before then he had only those that Harry himself had learned in his first four years at school and healing spells. With the knowledge in healing arts Tom must have had at the age of thirteen he would have made a wonderful healer – so what happened to let him turn to the dark side?  
  
If Tom had once been a small by all accounts innocent little boy then there was still a chance for the future Death Eaters and Harry would be damned before he would give up on them before he hadn't tried everything to save them from their future.  
  
Who was he that he could condemn others to a future of suffering only because he feared to change the future? What could be worse if Bellatrix did not join the Death Eaters? Nevilles parents would still be tortured and maybe Sirius would still die – but one innocent life may have been spared.  
  
Wouldn't it be enough if he guaranteed that Voldemort would die in the end? It would not matter if that even mend his own death – after all he never had expected to survive. 


	5. Proposals and sweets

Back to the future: part five

That morning Harry left his quarters with a new resolve: he WOULD try to change the future as he knew it! Didn't his presence alone change the future he knew already - so why not try and change some of the minor things that would not change the outcome of the war but ensure that at least a few life's would be spared?

Harry did not notice the stares he elicited as he entered the great hall as he was used to being stared at, only when Minerva asked him if he had decided to wear his hair from now on open and continued if he was looking for a bride that he noticed that he had forgotten to bind his hair back when he had left his quarters and on top of that also wore robes with the coat of arms of the Andrews in silver, a gift from Hermione on his eighteenth birthday - at least he did not wear a matching robe with the Potter crest.

Alone in his rooms Harry did not bother to restrain his long hair but since Snape had commented once in his friendly way that he was doing a horrible job of imitating Lucius Malfoy, did he choose to always wear his hair bound back at the base of his neck when he left the peace of his rooms.

Even Ginnys comment that open hair suited him let not him change his mind. Also Professor McGonagalls assurance that it was wizarding custom for the head of an important pureblood family to wear their hair long - and open - did nothing to let him forget or ignore Snapes words.

As Hermione had told him when she had given him these robes it was tradition to wear robes with the family coat of arms in either silver or blue depending on your rang in your family - silver for the head of the family, blue in different shades, the darker the larger your inheritance would be - if you were looking for a bride.

He had been absentminded enough that morning to grab the first robe he laid his hands on, not looking which robe he wore. Silently he swore to himself that that would be the last time he did not check his attire in the mirror before he left the safety of his rooms.

It was only then that he realised what exactly he had unwittingly revealed to the students: Not only was he the youngest professor but also a pureblood and the head of an important enough family to honour the traditions. What had started as a way to tame his unruly hair, as a successful attempt to separate himself from the ever present image of his dead father and an innocent gift from Hermione - scratch that, Hermiones gifts had always an ulterior motive! - had become something that had thrown him in the way of all fanatic pureblood families with daughters in a for marriage suitable age - and for Voldemort as a possible follower.

His dawning horror must have shone on his face as both Minerva and Charles patted him sympathising the back of his hands and insured him that it would take at least a day or two before the first propositions for marriage came which could be easily dealt with - the other matter would not be so easily cleared but they would find a way out of the situation their young colleague had found himself in.

Albus Dumbledore was watching his newest addition to the staff with mixed emotions: yes, he could clearly see that Henry Andrews had not noticed in what attire he had come to breakfast and was wishing at that moment to just find a hole in the stone floor, but on the other hand the situation he had created with his carelessness was very dangerous - not only for himself but for the whole school.

Even if he did not want to become the follower of a Dark Lord the fact remained that the newest self fashioned Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, was recruiting followers ... and that he was especially looking for young purebloods from important and rich families. Something that could be easily found in his young DADA professor who had now outright declared that he honoured the traditions and was at his young age already the head of an important old family.

Worse yet, if only one of the students had recognised the coat of arms and wrote to their parents about it and word reached Voldemort that the son of Grindewalds right-hand-man had appeared...

It would not take long till he would try recruiting him.

The other situation that was brought out by his choice of clothing was not less dangerous though on a very different level: Once a wizard had declared in this way that he was looking for a bride he had to view all proposals made to him, no matter how absurd they seemed, till he was engaged. And even then he had to view a proposal if it could be proven that the engagement was only to deter other proposals.

This meant for his professor, that he would soon be engaged and married if he did not wish to spend the rest of his life fending of proposals - that is if not an over-zealous family was able to prove after five years of the declaration that he had no intentions of marrying and therefore managed to force him into marrying their daughter.

This marriage tradition was one of the oldest and most archaic in the wizarding world but it was still in use - if one choose to use it - and he himself had long been in favour of prohibiting it, since, in the sense of that tradition, the age a young witch was seen suitably for marriage was fourteen... Which also meant that all female students over fourteen could have proposals written for.

Whispers followed Harry as he left the great hall for his class room just in time for the first lesson. As soon as he entered his already filled classroom he threw the offending robe into a corner and only then turned around to be faced with the worst possible class: first years Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Among the grinning first years the especially cocky faces of his future father and godfather stood out and he got the feeling that he would become one of their prank-victims, something he would not have minded in any other situation but at the moment things could only get worse.

No, things HAD just gotten worse, James Potter had raised his hand - definitely not a good sign after what he had seen on the train.

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

in Snape-like manner he raised an eyebrow at his father and decided there and then that he would not tolerate any prank on him but would retaliate in the same manner.

"Harry... Sorry I mean of course Professor Andrews, you seem agitated - would maybe some Blood-Drops help? Maybe one of the Slytherins has some?"

He even managed to turn around to the Slytherins at his last words and eye them questioningly.

A mixture of Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley and Fred and George Weasley and you got James Potter - that alone would have been enough for Snape to hate his father and if it weren't for the fact that he knew that his father would change he would also start to hate him at this point!

"Thank you Mr Potter for that helpful suggestion, but I must have some somewhere on my desk, it is not wise to be far from your candy...."

suppressing a grin at James gobsmacked face he turned around and rummaged through the papers on his desk till he found the backs of sweets before he faced once again the students:

"As Mr Potter has just revealed my weakness I will tell you an other secret:

Every truly powerful wizard or witch has a sweet tooth, anyone who can't enjoy something sweet and simple as candy is not powerful just able to conceal his lack of power by read or heard knowledge or ambition.

Take the headmaster for example: if you ever enter his office and he does not offer you one of his Lemon-Drops you know that you are in deep trouble. Or Nicholas Flamel, the great alchemist, he prefers Eucalyptus-Twirls. Even the founders or Merlin were not spared from this addiction: Merlin as well as Helga Huffelpuff preferred honey-filled-Mint-Leaves, you have to try them they are really good, while Salazar Slytherin choose to indulge in Honeysuckle-Delights. Godric Gryffindor at last found his joy in strawberry-cream-filled-cherry-cups.

So if you ever find it necessary to bribe me, my favourite sweets are Blood-Drops and Cream or Honey filled Mint Leaves, the headmaster will do almost anything if you have control over his supply for Lemon Drops.

Grindewald on the other hand hated sweets more than almost everything else; he was so fixated on his thirst for power that he forgot that power is something you could not force, either you have it or not. True, you can bribe and murder your way to the top but that will never increase your magical energy.

You can make up for your lack of power with knowledge or ambition and if you still stay the same and not sell your soul to darkness you will be able to achieve whatever you want..."

Lost in thought Harry stopped for a moment: none of the Death Eaters he had met had had the time or wish do indulge in something simple as candy when they could spent the moments of bliss to plan to take over the world. Will even one of these children be able to see that I'm not just talking about sweets he wondered before he continued.

"But only if you are still able to enjoy sweets do you know that you have not lost focus on the truly important things in life: to be able to enjoy simple things just like a child would."

After this words Harry took with a smile that belied his seriousness one of each candy and popped them into his mouth before he addressed once more the students:

"Want some?"


	6. Nyx

Back to the future : part six

By lunch Harry was once again - though for the first time in this time period - the talk of the whole school and before he could leave for his afternoon lessons the headmaster asked him, meaning ordered him, to report to his office after his last lesson.

That was exactly were Harry was heading, to his first reprimand as a professor, the first he ever got from the headmaster because even while he was still a student none of his adventures had ended with him being ordered to the headmaster.

Inside the office the headmaster was waiting behind his desk, a tin with Lemon Drops and a tea-set before him.

"I would offer you a Lemon Drop but I have heard through the Hogwarts rumour-mill, that you prefer some other sweets so would you care for a spot of tea?"

Smiling Harry took the tea, knowing very well, that the headmaster only tried to put him at ease before he came to the real reason why he had ordered him up here, Harrys robes. By now Harry had found the time to change into a pale grey robe and had once again bound his hair but the damage was already done and he knew it.

"Professor, I know that you didn't ask me to here to have some company for your afternoon tea or discuss which sweets we prefer so would you mind to come to the point of my visit here?"

It was amazing how quick Albus Dumbledore changed his whole demeanour and became the powerful and feared defeater of Grindewald, the man Voldemort would learn to fear if he didn't do so already.

"That is correct Mr Andrews, I called you here to discuss your attire this morning - I got the idea that you are not fully aware what damage you have done with your carelessness."

Harry stayed silent for a moment before he answered:

"I know that I unwittingly declared that I am searching for a bride and that there is no way to take that declaration back so if I want to stay here I will have to become engaged within the next five years. That is not what I had planned but I don't see a problem in getting engaged before I am twenty-three."

For a fleeting moment he saw shock in the headmasters eyes as he mentioned that age as he had written in his application that he was already twenty five. With an ill concealed grin he continued:

"First person to shock the great Dumbledore - and to fool him!"

seeing the scowl that formed itself on the face of the headmaster he hastily added

"Before I came here I took an ageing potion that allowed me to appear seven years older as I doubted that even you would hire someone who has just turned eighteen! - and seeing your face I know that I'm right.

As for the robe: I had no idea that I had grabbed that robe this morning - though it could have been worse -"

he added under his breath but with the intention to let the older wizard hear him, louder he continued

"The only reason I still have that robe is because it was a gift to my last birthday otherwise I would have already burned it, I had never the intention to ever wear it much less so soon.!"

The headmasters face had still not relaxed as he took up his cup and drank silently his tea. What should he think of this young man who had barely reached adulthood and openly admitted to have played him for a fool concerning his age. Was that all he had lied about? Somehow he could not believe it, he knew that there were many things that his new teacher chose to not tell the truth, at least the whole truth about.

"That declaration is one thing - but do you also know that you have placed yourself in he direct line of interest of the uprising Dark Lord? You can be sure that he knows by now that the heir of Reginald Andrews is teaching here.

Not only have you placed yourself into danger but also the whole school with all its students! Now that he knows of your existents he will try to recruit you and if you choose not to join him he will destroy everything you care for, but if you should chose to join him I will have no choice but to dismiss you."

Not giving the headmaster the chance to continue Harry interrupted him:

"With all respect headmaster but I know very well what I have caused with my carelessness!

At the moment the only thing that Voldemort can take from me that I care for is this job... and if he does that I will just find something new or travel for a while.

I will never join him or any other Dark Lord as I have already told you, I know to what horrible acts they are capable, there is nothing in the world that could make me join him.

Why do you think it is a bad thing that he knows of my existents? He will learn with time that I will not chose sides, at least not openly, and that it would be better to ignore me than to force me to show what I really am."

"And what are you?"

came the calm question from the headmaster and was answered with an almost feral grin from his young employee that let his eyes appear to be glowing and glittering like jewels.

"I am a VERY dangerous man, someone who is NOT to be messed with: harm anything or anyone I care for and you will NOT live to regret it! I am in possessions of powers most people would not even dare to dream about and I have no problems to use them when the need arises.

No, it would be the best for everyone just to ignore my existence!"

Harry was unaware, that some of his powers had become visibly as he spoke, underlining his threat. Albus Dumbledore however saw and felt the waves of power that flowed from the young man before him, he saw how the air around him seemed to shimmer and how even the portraits of the past headmasters and headmistresses sought to leave their frames.

The only reason why he stayed calm and did not immediately threw the young man out, was that Fawkes, his phoenix had chosen to join the young professor on his lab and was unconsciously patted by the man but whatever trust he had had in the wizard was lost as he saw his revengeful side. His thoughts were interrupted as the young man -visibly calmed - stood up.

"Headmaster, it would be best to continue this conversation sometime else as dinner is about to begin and it would not make a good impression if both of us would be missing: the students might think that you took offence in my telling them how to bribe you - and how to gauge your mood and the amount of trouble they are in.

The smile on their faces as they entered was forced though only those who knew them - at least the headmaster - good or long enough noticed this. The talk all around the hall focused solely on their youngest professor. Especially the older witches tried to guess who he would chose as a bride, some of those who were already engaged, which were mostly in Slytherin tried to find a way to cancel their engagement to have a chance with their handsome professor.

During the whole meal Albus Dumbledores thoughts strayed to the meeting he just had had with his youngest professor who was as he had just learned the youngest in Hogwarts history.

As Andrews spoke their eyes had for a moment connected and the old sorcerer had sought the chance to enter the young wizards mind in an attempt to learn something of his past. What he had seen in the others mind had not been what he expected, he hadn't even thought it possible: instead of stray thoughts and memories or even some kind of barrier he had encountered a void. A partly blinding white and partly pitch black void that seemed to burn without visible flames. He had withdrawn his own mind faster then he had ever done before but not fast enough as he had still felt a sense of endless panic and unimaginable happiness.

What he had tried in hope to find some answers to the mystery that surrounded Henry Andrews had only added more questions and his trust in the stranger had faded even more but strangely he was sure that he could trust this the young man with his life.

It was late in the evening, long after curfew as the headmaster sat in his office with a cup of hot chocolate in the hope to calm his nerves when he saw something flying to his window. For a moment he hesitated to open it but as Fawkes started to sing in greeting he recognised the animal as a phoenix, a Shadow phoenix.

He had read about this rare avians but had never seen one and wondered why he was visited now by one of this magnificent animals. While Fawkes feathers were red and gold the feathers of this phoenix were of a deep black and only the tips of his tail-feathers had streaks of gold.

As soon as he had opened his window the Shadow phoenix flew over to Fawkes perch and started to sing till he suddenly turned and looked directly at the tired headmaster. He seemed to judge him for a few moments with his glowing dark golden eyes before he opened his wings and glided over to the headmaster to perch on his shoulders where he started to sing a calming tune.

Still puzzled over the appearance of this second phoenix the headmaster raised his hand to pet his head which the phoenix allowed for many minutes till he lay his head to the side and cried four silvery tears into his cup of hot chocolate and indicated with one of his wings to the sorcerer that he should drink it. Seeing that not only the newcomer but also his own phoenix waited for him to drink the chocolate with the silvery tears he raised the cup slowly to his mouth to drink from it. He did not know what the tears did as he had never heard of anyone who had managed to get close enough to this kind of phoenix to study them but he trusted Fawkes with his life and knew that no harm would come to him if Fawkes was near. His last thoughts as he sank into a deep reviewing sleep was that he now knew the properties of the tears and that he would like to keep this second phoenix around.


	7. Henry Potter the first

Back to the future: part seven

The next morning Harry was once again the last to appear to breakfast but as it was a Saturday all of the students and teachers were still present. All heads followed him as he made his way to his place, wondering if something else unexpected would happen.

"...I wonder what other powers the Shadow Phoenix has."

He heard the headmaster say to Minerva and while he buttered a slice of toast he turned to the headmaster to answer his question even though it was not directed at him:

"Their tears have three properties: healing, sleep-inducing or - in lesser dose of maximal one tear - calming and lastly they are able to kill but you can see at the colour which tears they are using. They travel with shadows and when they disappear or reappear you see for a moment a faint shadow before they vanish - or appear.

Oh, and they can also chose between a revitalising, a calming and an saddening song."

When he finished he had not only the attention of the headmaster and Minerva but also of Charles, Hagrid and Evelyn Kettelburn the Care Of Magical Creatures professor.

"And how would you know so much of these avians, when no one had ever been able to study them?"

Evelyn asked him a little bit peeved that he knew more about them than she did.

"Oh, my father collected everything he could find about them and tried to study them himself as his 'Master' "

Harry nearly spat the last words,

"Was trying to convert at least one Shadow Phoenix to his side in order to have a defence against the headmasters phoenix and secondly because Nyx choose last June that I would be suitable to ensure that he has always everything he wants."

"Nyx?"

questioned Minerva amused by the tone her young colleague was using.

"The Shadow phoenix that has apparently chosen to drug the headmaster last evening - he came back to me very late and was much to happy for my liking - bloody bird kept me up most of the night, hence the reason why I was one again late."

Before anyone could question him further the post arrived and with it the first proposals for the young professor. After Harry had opened the first one he let his head fall with a loud tud on the table; turning his head slightly so that he was looking at the widely grinning Charles he groaned:

"Are they all going to be that...that tactless? I mean I am looking for a bride not some breeding-machine..."

Picking up the discarded letter Charles quickly read over it, feeling more sympathy for his friend with every word he read. The letter described in every - unwanted - detail how the girl in question looked, from birthmarks over scars to her weight and high... and unwanted information's like hip- or breast wide. It even mentioned things like when she had hit puberty and that she was still a virgin, what illnesses she had had and her sleeping and eating pattern.

If Harry had bothered to read the whole letter he would have learned more about this girl than he had ever wanted to know about ANY girl - much less one he would think of of marrying.

The other letters were of a similar style and Charles explained to him, that that was the required form for such a proposal, only the second part allowed some individuality. The first part had to consist of a detailed description of the girl for whom the proposal was written and her finances such as her dowry and inheritance both monetary and material but also magical and medical.

Should he find out after the engagement or even after the wedding that he had been lied to concerning her inheritance he could cancel the marriage and was not obliged to marry someone else.

It was also within the range of possibility that he convinced the parents or guardian of a girl he loved to write a proposal that he could then accept.

Only then did Harry realise what he had to expect for the next years and hoped that he would be able to soon find a girl he liked - hopefully without all the proposals. Defeated he turned to the headmaster:

"Professor, is there a way that my post - at least this kind - is in future delivered to my rooms?

I have no intention to read every personal detail over one of the students right before I have to teach her!"

Seeing the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of the headmaster that he had learned to love and to hate to the same degree he added hastily in an almost pleading tone:

"I will of course allow Nyx to visit you as often as he wants - and I might also be able to find some Lemon Drops!"

To his eternal relieve the headmaster reacted to the bribery and promised to let the houselves sort the proposals out for him.

Under his breath Harry added, audible only to his direct neighbours Minerva and Charles:

"Old codger! Always knew that he takes bribery ... I can understand Nyx, but Lemon Drops?, that stuff is disgusting! Why can't he be addicted to Eucalyptus Twirls like uncle Nicki? I mean I can understand why he does not like Blood Drops, though he should like the Mint Leaves..."

Harry stopped suddenly in his rant when he heard the suppressed chuckles from Minerva and Charles.

"I didn't just say that loud, did I?"

Harry asked turning pale. That was just what he needed, the headmaster already didn't trust him as far as he could throw him without magic, it would not do if he would also start to hate him. The wide smile on the others faces answered his question and a wink from the headmaster showed him that he also had heard him but had at least not taken offence.

Drinking a last cup of coffee Harry stood up:

"I best leave before I say something else I shouldn't, please blame al I have said so far this day on a lack of sleep. I'm heading to Diagon Alley to meet an old friend - and to buy a bag of Lemon Drops - does anyone need something else that I can bring back?"

On the way back to his quarters Harry was stopped by one of the most unlikely persons, Bellatrix Black.

"Professor, Professor Andrews!"

she called after him and Harry was once again stunned by her beauty. For a fleeting moment he wished that her parents would also sent him a proposal. Shaking his head to clear it from those thoughts he stopped till she had caught up with him.

"Miss Black, what can I do for you?"

he asked, relieved that even if she had been a trained Legimence she would not have been able to learn of his improper thoughts concerning her.

"Professor, I couldn't help but overhear you saying that you would be going to Diagon Alley today and I wondered if I could ask you for a favour..."

A favour did she want? What kind of favour could there be concerning his visit to Diagon Alley... A horrible thought occurred him: she was nearly fourteen and it would be a few weeks till the first Hogsmead weekend, maybe she needed those, those things women needed - but than wouldn't she just ask one of the other girls for it, no it had to be something else.

"Yes, Miss Black?"

uneasily she looked around and finally asked him if they could discuss it in his office. Now completely intrigued by her - still not told - request he led her the short way to his office and closed the door behind her. As soon as the door was closed Bellatrix opened a hidden pocked in her robe and produced from it a letter.

"My older sister just got married this July - but since she married a muggle our parents disowned her and forbid Narcissa and me any contact with her...

I have written her a letter but can't send it with my owl as our parents have put tracking charms on them and I don't trust the school owls to be discrete enough as she is now living surrounded by muggles..."

As she stopped to draw breath - and to gauge his reaction - he continued for her:

"So you wondered if I could post it for you the muggle way as you heard that I would be in London today."

Almost hopefully Bellatrix nodded and Harry wondered not for the first time what had made this sweet little girl into the cruel, insane mass murderer he had met in his own time.

"Have you put her address on the envelope or do I have to look it up myself?"

As an answer she held the envelope so that he could clearly see the address of Andromeda and Ted Tonks.

"Shall I also ask Narcissa for a message.." her panicked face told him that that would not be a good idea, "ok, maybe not... but why don't you just ask Andromeda to visit you on the first Hogsmead visit? There will be so many students that no one will notice if you meet with her, ... you can use my office to change your letter while I get ready to leave."

Entering his private rooms he asked himself what he was doing: was he just being nice to one of his students and asking himself this question was overly paranoid - or was he really infatuated with the future Mrs Lestrange. She was exceptional beautiful and she was also a sweet intelligent girl...

But she is just fourteen he scolded himself - till a small voice, sounding awfully like Luna, reminded him that he was also only eighteen, just four years older then her. The voice continued to remind him that Hermione had been asked to the ball in their fourth year - when she had also been only fourteen - by the four years older Viktor Krum... and that he had seen nothing wrong in that.

Yes, his inner debate continued, but I am her teacher... and there is no rule at Hogwarts that speaks against a relationship between a teacher and a student as long as both were willing and above the age of consent, which was for boys sixteen and for girls fourteen as the rules hadn't been changed since the time of the founders.

A quiet knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts and he opened the door to find the subject of his thoughts on the other side, holding her rewritten letter.

After he had send Bellatrix on her way he scanned her letter for curses or poisons and thought with a smile that he was almost as paranoid as Madeye Moody - and wondered if the old Auror would wake up when he had returned to the future. In the last battle Madeye had been hit by a Coma-Curse and had still been lying in St.Mungos when he had left to this time.

What would Moody do in his situation, would he lock all the future Death Eaters up so that they would not be able to commit their future crimes, would he hunt down Voldemort before he could become the feared Dark Lord - or would he honour the time-travel rules: you can NOT change the time in any way that may prevent you from travelling back in time and second, you must NOT be seen - ok, this rule was already broken and there was no way to erase the memory of more than thousand people.

But what would the first rule include? He knew that he could not just kill Voldemort in this time - because than his parents would still be alive, Sirius would be free and alive, Nevilles parents would be sane... But would his parents be married, would Nevilles parents be married, would he himself be even alive? When he had asked the headmaster why he should go back in time and teach for seven years the only answer his mentor had been able to give him was because he remembered him as a past teacher and that there was something he had to do in the past, something he should have done in the beginning when he was there.

Lost in thought Harry apparated to Diagon Alley, forgetting completely that it should be impossible to at Hogwarts. Just as he was about to enter 'Flourish and Blotts' a voice stopped him:

"Reginald?"

Slowly he turned around and was met with the sight Henry August Potter the first - he himself was Henry Potter the second.

"Mr. Potter... what can I do for you?"

for a few seconds Harry saw the startled face of the older man before he composed himself and apologised.

"I'm sorry sir, I have mistaken you for an old friend I had not seen in years!"

with a nod Henry Potter turned around and was about to go away as Harry decided that this may be the only possibility to get in contact with his grandparents.

"You were a friend of Reginald Andrews?"

he asked quietly but saw that the other had heard him as he stopped mid-step and turned slowly around. As the older wizard was facing Harry continued:

"You recognised me and your reaction shows that you are afraid that someone might think you know more about his disappearance than you have let on in all this years!

What I want to know is why you are interested in him!"

Henry hesitated for a moment before he bid Harry to follow him and turned to the other side of the Alley were the Leaky Cauldron was located. Only when they were in Muggle London did he answer the question of the man who reminded him of his friend.

"I just want to know if he is still alive, I haven't seen him for more then twenty six years, Mr ...?"

waiting for Harry to give him his name he trailed of as they sat down in a small café.

"No, he is not alive anylonger, he died in June."

It startled Harry to see the crestfallen face of his grandfather.

"Then I will never be able to repay him for what he has done for me... but you have still not told me your name and I have to wonder why."

His piercing eyes stared at Harry and Harry felt a pang of sadness as he was once again reminded of what Voldemort had taken from him.

"Henry Andrews..., what do you mean that you will never be able to repay him?"

"Henry?" inquired the older man with new-found vigour.

"Did you say your name is Henry Andrews?"

Harry was barely able to suppress a grin at the others enthusiasm and only nodded not trusting himself to not start laughing when he opened his mouth.

"That is why you have his eyes, you are his son! Then it will be to you that I will repay my debt, your father once saved my life and I haven't seen him after that as it happened shortly before Grindewald was finally stopped."

Seeing Harrys raised eyebrow he continued:

"When Grindewald knew that he had lost he started a last attempt to rid himself of those who opposed him - and came also after me, my parents and sister had already been killed. Only because Reginald heard of it and came to warn me did I survive.

We had been friends before and during Hogwarts - till he met Grindewald, who had went a decade earlier to Hogwarts under the name of Edward G. Lind.

After he had defeated him, Albus Dumbledore came to me in search of Reginald but I did not know where he had went after he had saved me - and even if I had known I am not sure if I would have been able to betray my one time friend whom I owed I life-dept."

"He must have had already left the wizarding world... my father never talked about the time before he started to live as a muggle, only once did he talk about something from the wizarding world and that was when he told me how to get to Diagon Alley after he had me change my appearance. It was years later that I learned the reason for his peculiar behaviour and that he had bound his own magic to ensure that it could not be detected.

I believe that he regretted what he had done - but there was no way to change it, he had no way to go back in time and even then it would have been impossible..."

They both drank their tea in silence till Henry asked:

"What are you doing now, you are what, twenty? Do you already know what you want to do with your life? I own shares in many companies, if you need a job you just have to ask."

With a thankful smile Harry answered:

"Thank you but that won't be necessary as I already have a job: I'm Hogwarts newest defence teacher - and I already had the first lesson with James!"


	8. Andromeda

_**Back to the future: part eight**_

"YOU are James DADA Professor? The one who loves Blood-Drops and tells his students with which sweet they can bribe the headmaster?"

Henry asked in his most dangerous voice and seeing the young Professor squirm he started to laugh:

"I have to tell James how easily you are to get to squirm - he will love it!

On the first evening he wrote my wife and me a letter, telling us who his new friends were, that he had been sorted into Gryffindor - and that he had met someone on the train who he thought was a seventh year but was in reality his new defence teacher who loved Blood Drops and knew so much about Vampires... oh and in the letter we got this morning he mentioned that you were looking for a bride and asked if we had someone we could marry you to."

With every word his grandfather spoke Harry had paled further: his father and grandfather were collaborating against him - what had he done to deserve such a treatment. It might have been okay if his father hadn't been an eleven year old boy who reminded him to much of Draco Malfoy for him to be comfortable - and his grandfather reminded him of Sirius, like he had been the one Christmas in his fifth year that they were able to spent together.

"Yes, I love Blood-Drops and yes, I am looking for a bride but no, I don't need the help of my students - or their parents to find one. It was my hope to appear like one of the seventh years when I met those three: it was very entertaining to learn what kind of pranks they like; that way I am the only teacher who is forewarned and knows who is responsible when they start pranking."

Looking at his watch Harry sighted, he was enjoying his banter with his grandfather but it was already noon and he had jet to do his shopping and meet with Andromeda Tonks before he had to be back at Hogwarts for Dinner.

"I have to go, I have still not done my shopping and I have a long list of things I promised my colleagues to get for them and I also have to meet someone here in muggle London later today - and the headmaster would have my head if I would miss dinner or came to late."

Paying for their tea they stood up and Henry Potter offered the young man his hand:

"I would enjoy to continue our conversation sometime else when we have more time..."

in a spur of the moment decision he asked:

"Are you planning something for Christmas? Lucretia wouldn't mind a guest and I'm sure that James would be more than happy to be able to prank a teacher without the danger of getting detention or loosing house-points - and I would certainly welcome you!"

Shaking his head Harry smiled at the older wizard:

"No, I don't have anything planned - but are you sure that you want to invite me? I am a complete stranger and you and your wife might want to spend the time with James, that are his first holidays..."

"Nonsense,"

interrupted him Henry,

"I wouldn't have asked you if I hadn't meant it. We would all be happy to welcome you at our home for the holidays - but please don't tell James that you are coming, he would think of you for all times as an older brother and not a professor... No, don't even think of using that as an excuse for declining my invitation!... In a few weeks James will know that you are his professor - no matter as what he sees you.

When you need anything or just want to spend a quiet afternoon or evening without the students, our floo-address is #1 Godrics Hollow or just Godrics Castle."

Harrys smile would have seemed forced if he hadn't trained most of his life to always smile and not show how he really felt. Godrics Hollow, the village in which his parents had been - no would be - killed. Even when he knew that this could not be the same home where he had gained his scar as the address of that house had been # 14 Godrics Hollow it was still to close for his liking. And why was the floo-address Godrics Castle? He knew that there were speculations that the Potters were descendants of Godric Gryffindor - but the only one who could answer that question was Henry Potter the first his grandfather. Maybe he would ask him later.

While Henry went directly back to Diagon Alley Harry went in search for a telephone -boot to look up Andromedas and Ted Tonks number to call them and decide on a place where to meet. Even though Andromeda agreed in the end to meet with him in the same café he had sat in moments ago with Henry Potter he clearly felt her mistrust and it took a lot of convincing to get her to agree.

After they had agreed to meet two hours later Harry went back to Diagon Alley to do the shopping he had come for. His first stop was 'Flourish and Blotts' where he had to pick up three books - two for Minerva and one for Filius. As he started to brows through the books he thought that Hermione had been a bad influence for him as he never left a book-store anymore without at least finding three or four books he just HAD to buy, thankfully he had the Galleons he needed for this expensive hobby.

When he went back to the café Andromeda and Ted Tonks were already waiting for him. He had met them in his own time a few times but didn't know them well. Both were sitting with their backs to the wall, a place he himself preferred.

"Mrs. Tonks, Mr Tonks! I'm Harry Andrews and I called you a few hours ago."

Harry introduced himself as he sat down in the third chair.

"Why did you want to meet my wife? You don't even know each other?"

Ted Tonks voice was filled with mistrust - but what had he expected? The only wizards this man had met were his wives family and they despised muggles like him.

Reaching into his pocket Harry answered him:

"I am the new Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts and when I mentioned today that I would go to London today I was overheard by one of the students, a third year with the name Bellatrix Black..."

seeing Andromedas hopeful face he smiled and gave her the letter.

"Your sister followed me to my office and asked me to post this letter the muggle-way as your parents have put a tracking charm on her owl.

I wont advise you to send her any letters directly as she seemed to be sure that Narcissas alliances lie with your parents but if you sent any letters to her to me I will forward them to her."

As she still not had opened the letter he hastily ensured her that it was not cursed in any way.

"Why are you doing this, delivering the letter personally, proposing to forward letters to her... what do you gain from doing it?

Asking this Andromeda sounded remarkably like the portrait of her aunt, Sirius mother. Harry thought for a moment before he answered her question hesitantly:

"Have you ever heard of Reginald Andrews, the right hand man of Grindewald?"

at her nod he continued

"Your family is just as dark as Reginald Andrews was - yes, he is dead - "

he answered her frown

"Everyone in the our world would think that his son would become just as dark as the father but as he did not grew up in the wizarding world and no one burdened him with prejudged expectations he had the chance to decide for himself if he wanted to be Dark or Light.

You come from a family that despises muggles and yet you have married a muggle.

If I can help Bellatrix find her own way, to get a different view of muggles than that your parents teach you I will deliver letters between you.

Had I grown up in the wizarding world my name would have branded me as a Dark wizard and I would have most likely become so - for why should I try to convince someone differently if they will jump at the first chance to prove that I belong in Askaban just because my father was one of the darkest wizards of this century.

Bellatrix can still be swayed to the Light side, her love for you has given her the chance to become her own person with her own opinions and views; while Narcissa has already chosen the path to Darkness Bellatrix is yet undecided and I will do everything I can to win her over to the Light!"

Ted was eyeing the young wizard with the long black hair sceptically, before he had met Andromedas family he had read many books on wizard-traditions and history and the one thing that stood out most in all those books was the strong dislike most wizards had for muggles. He had asked his wife how her family thought about non-magical people like him and had been told that they would most likely hate him and that only one of her cousins and her two sisters might give him at least a chance when they would meet.

Therefor it had not come as a shock for him when her parents had thrown him out of their house when they had learned that he was a mere muggle. A few days later Andromeda had told him that she still wanted to marry him - only after they had married did she tell him that her family disowned her the minute they had married.

That had been nearly two months ago and he knew how much Andromeda missed her sisters and her cousin, even her parents. It would be wonderful if this man would give her a way to stay in contact with at least one member of her family - but could he really trust him? They knew nothing about him and for all they knew he could have been send by her parents in a last attempt to bring her back to the wizarding world.

"Why are you doing this? Most wizards hate muggles so why are you trying to help a witch who 'lowered' herself to marrying a muggle?"

Teds voice was more curious than hostile but it was clear that he would try to keep his wife from accepting the offer of this stranger if he was not satisfied with his answer.

"It is not true that all wizards hate muggles, you have just met the worst kind of us: a few - sadly mostly the rich and influential - families hate muggles and muggle-born but most are indifferent to them as long as they are left alone and than there is also a small group of those who are fascinated by muggles and everything that has to do with them.

I grew up in the muggle-world and I have known muggles who were just as bad as those few wizarding families who want to kill all muggles but I have also got to know muggles who tolerate us or are even fascinated by magic.

Till I was eleven I had no idea that I was a wizard - yes, my father was Reginald Andrews, but as he fled to the muggle world he stopped using magic, he didn't even mentioned it! I did not know that it was accidental magic as I turned a teachers hair blue or apparated onto a roof; only when I turned eleven did he tell me that I was magical and organised for me to be thought.

So you see, I know both worlds and while I have to say, that magic has many advantages I don't agree that people with magic are more worth than those without it - on the contrary, most wizards are helpless without a wand while muggles have learned to live without magic.

As for muggle-borns, they are able to live in both worlds, at the age eleven they are thrown into a completely different world, a world they have known nothing about and where most look down onto them - and yet they are able to learn as good and fast, even faster, than those who have known magic all their life's.

So why shouldn't I help a girl who was the only one from Slytherin who clapped as her cousin was sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin as everyone expected?"

At this point he was interrupted by Andromeda:

"Sirius is in GRYFFINDOR?"

Harry had to grin at her satisfied tone:

"Yes, Sirius is in Gryffindor and has already made friends with the son of Henry and Lucretia Potter and the son of Gerald and Aurelia Lupin. They met on the train and share now a dorm together with an other boy.

I am certain that those three will be life-long friends."

Carefully Andromeda opened the letter of her sister, half-expecting it to explode into her face, her eyes lit up as she read it and as soon as she had finished she surprised her two companions by falling Harry around his neck.

"Thank you, thank you! You have no idea how good it is to hear from Trixi again."

Turning to her husband she continued:

"Trixi wants to meet with both of us on her first Hogsmead weekend, of course we have to disguise us but then you will finally meet one of my sisters!

And you will really forward letters to her or to me?"

She asked Harry hopefully.

"Yes, I don't yet have an owl but I will either borrow one from one of my colleagues till I have my own or I will use Nyx, my phoenix...

Do you want to answer her now or shall I send someone tomorrow?"

The choice - and the result of writing a letter on some of the parchment Harry had bought earlier - distracted Andromeda and Ted from asking Harry about Nyx for which Harry was thankful as he did not like to lie to someone he hoped to become friends with.

He couldn't help the lies he had to tell his colleagues and everyone else about his past - or their future - but he only enjoyed to test his old mentors ability to detect lies. When he had been a student he had always felt as if the headmaster knew immediately if he was lied to but now that he excelled in Occlumency he wondered if the headmaster had only always probed his mind when he had asked him a question. Therefor he found it now very interesting to see if the older wizard was able to detect when he was lying.

After he had received the letter from Andromeda - who had after a moment of hesitation written a second letter to her cousin Sirius after Harry had ensured her that he would also deliver it - and had promised her and Ted to stay in touch with them he apparated into his rooms and noticed cursing that he had to hurry if he didn't want to be late for dinner.


	9. I'm angry withyoudid I mention that I'm ...

**Back to the future: part nine**

The next weeks were flowing by and Harry found himself lost in the routine of the three meals, the classes he had to teach and the homeworks and test he had to correct. The highlights of his days were the visits to Andromeda and Ted he made twice a week as Nyx; not for the first time he wondered how Nymphadora Tonks really looked now that he got to know her parents - even if it they believed him to be a phoenix. Did she look like her mother or her father or even like one of her aunts or her grandmother?

Once a week Harry was visiting Mr Ollivander - Gawain - in Diagon Alley and they talked for a few hours, making it easier for Harry to be without his friends form his own time as only Gawain knew who he really was. Much to the amusement of the old wand-maker did Harry hesitate to use his new wand and had only used it a handful of times since he had bought it.

As he had tried to explain his friend that the reason why he was so reluctant to use it was that compared to his old Holly-phoenix-feather-wand this new one was that much more powerful as Professor Dumbledore was compared to the average first year the wand-maker had only laughed and told him that it was more likely the difference between Harry himself and a squib and not Dumbledore and a first year.

Needless to say that Harry was after that comment even more reluctant to use his new wand, especially as Mr Ollivander had told him when he had sold him the first wand that it was powerful, very powerful.

The first Hogsmead weekend had just ended and Harry had received a hug as a thanks from Bellatrix and was sitting locked up in his rooms, a already half-empty bottle of firewhiskey on the table besides him. He was lost, absolutely lost: he had fallen for one of his students!

And as his luck was, not for anyone but for thirteen year old Bellatrix Black, cousin of his future Godfather; a future mass murderer, favourite of Voldemort, the one who had murdered Sirius and had tortured Nevilles parents into insanity.

Why had he come here, why?

Hadn't his life been complicated enough in his own time? Why had he allowed Dumbledore to talk him into this "nice little adventure", "You will enjoy your time in the past Harry - you were one of the most beloved teachers I have ever managed to employ - and besides that I remember your time as a teacher, it has already happened, you have to go back, my child!"

If he ever got back to his own time he would destroy his headmasters office again - just for old times. In a moment of insanity - induced by nearly a full bottle of firewhiskey - Harry decided that he didn't have to wait to destroy Dumbledores office, afterall this time had also a Dumbledore.

Surprisingly fast Harry was at the Gargoyle that was guarding the headmasters office and thanks to the mark on his right hand he had not to guess the password; the staircase was the first trouble he encountered: afterall it is not comfortable to stand on something that is spiralling upward when you are completely drunk.

Without knocking Harry stumbled into the office of the headmaster and slurred to one of the four Dumbledores he saw - unfortunately to one of the three he imagined:

"Headmaster, I am angry with you, very angry! My life had just become a lot less complicated and then I have to come here..."

Harry trailed of and searched with his hands for a chair as he was also seeing more than one, after having sat down he continued:

"Have I told you that I am angry with you? Very angry..."

Once the headmaster was sure, that his drunk professor had stopped talking for the moment and had no intention to continue for a while he looked him over. Now that he was drunk this handsome young man looked even younger, closer to his real age but something about him did not look right, a weariness around his eyes that made his startling green eyes look as old as his own and his eyes in itself looked, even though they were now slightly clouded by the alcohol, altered and as if they had seen to much - a look he knew from himself and everyone else who had fought in a war.

How could this young man, who had just left childhood, have gained this look or the phoenix for that matter. A phoenix joined a wizard or witch only in a time of great battles, when their life may depend on them. So why had a phoenix joined this young man?

"Professor Andrews.."

he did not come further as the young man interrupted him:

"Harry, just Harry... I never liked it when you called me something else..."

There it was again, a comment that implied that they had known each other longer then a few months or did this young man speak always so general?

"Harry, my child, why are you angry with me? I am not responsible for you being here - neither in my office nor here at Hogwarts. It was you who applied for the job as our Defence against the Dark Arts Professor - I only accepted your application."

With wonder the headmaster noticed how Harrys face softened as he called him his child - could that be a way to break through his mask and see who his youngest professor really was or would he make himself an enemy if the young man ever learned that his weakness had been used against him.

"But you are the reason I came to Hogwarts! Without you I wouldn't be in this dilemma!"

the pout Harry showed could almost be called cute especially as his right sleeve had been shoved up by the way he was slouching in his chair.

"What dilemma do you find yourself in, Harry - can I be of an help to solve it?"

Harrys face lit up like a candle at this question and hadn't he been so drunk he would have sprung up and had jumped around the office but as it was he stumbled back into his chair as he tried to stand up and wondered aloud:

"I guess I'm drunk!...If Charles will brew me a hangover potion... I don't think that I have ever made any of that stuff except when I was thought how to make it..."

Looking for a moment puzzled around he started to grin stupidly as his eyes fell on all the trinkets around the office:

"But you can help! May I throw some of them - I know which one can be repaired and it is really fun!"

Before he managed to stand up the headmaster had banished all his breakable instruments and trinkets into a cupboard and sealed the glass-door.

"I doubt that that would be a good idea my child - but it might help to speak of you problem, we might find a solution for it."

The frantic shaking of the younger mans had made him ask an other question:

"Harry, how much did you have to drink?"

It took longer for Harry to answer than it had before and the aged headmaster feared that the alcohol was only now settling in and if Harry had been already that drunk before...

"Just a bottle of firewhiskey... and in the Three Broomsticks a butterbeer... and I think a Grog or were it two? No, I think it were three!"

Harry concluded with a victorious smile while Albus Dumbledore groaned: a butterbeer and a Grog were worse enough but a butterbeer, THREE Grog's AND a whole BOTTLE of firewhiskey... Harry could be happy if he managed to drink the hangover potion the next day, it was a miracle that he was still able to talk somewhat coherently and not just kneel over.

"So what is your problem, Harry?"

the inquisitive and calculating side of the headmaster told him to take advantage of the state the young man was in, it could be the only chance he got to question him without the use of Verita-Serum and the chance that Harry would remember the interrogation was very slim.

"The problem is my declaration... and that I have fallen in love with someone I can not love, I mean I can love her but it is not right and I am not allowed to love her because of what, of who she is, I mean what she will become, what she will do..."

Harry trailed of and looked lost at the headmaster who was watching him with interest.

"You are a seer?"

every bit of reservations he might have had to question his employee had vanished as the other had implied this rare talent.

"A seer? No, I am not one of those batty persons who claim to have visions wherever they go but I do have visions from time to time, most of...."

Harrys eyes which had closed before snapped open and for a moment he sat up straight before he sank back into the chair overcome by a wave of dizziness:

"Shit, he is here, the connection will open again, he can NOT learn what I know, no he can not learn it, under no circumstance!"

once again Harry shook his head violently and managed once again not to throw up afterwards.

"See, I can not love her, it would only endanger her more than she already is because of her family!"

Shakingly Harry raised his gloved hand to smooth some of his hair back behind his ear as he had forgotten to tie it back when he had left his rooms in search for the headmaster. It was this movement that inspired the headmaster to a question that had plagued him since he had first met Henry Andrews.

"Harry, why do you always wear a glove on your right hand?"

He watched fascinated as Harrys eyes followed his own to the silver glove and started then to trail a figure he could not discern on the back of the glove, The expression on his face was a mixture between pain, fear, relieve, happiness, sadness and victory.

"My wand exploded while I held it, the explosion and the magical backlash from the spells and everything burned my hand completely... the last thing I remember before blacking out is the pain from what was left of my hand... when I woke up all that was left from the explosion were a few scars on the back of my hand but I don't want anyone to see them, not an other scar to identify me, to let everyone think that they know who I am!"

The last part was said with so much disgust and pain that Albus Dumbledore wondered what he could be talking about: what scar could identify someone to everyone?

"Uncle Nicki made me this glove, only myself and those who know what it conceals can take it off - since he gave it to me I have only taken it off once..."

In the silence that followed Harrys answer the headmaster asked:

"Will you take it off for me?"

For the first time since he had entered the office of the headmaster Harrys eyes were clear as he answered, a hurt expression in his eyes.

"No, you have to trust me before I will take it off for you! I trust you with my life and the life of everything I care for but I will not trust you with my scars, you will just judge me like everyone else has ever done!"

A single tear rolled down the face of the young man as he once again trailed with his hand over the glove.

"Uncle Nicki chose silver because he said that that is what I am: neither light nor dark or grey.

He said that I am of the purest, lightest silver he has ever encountered in his long life and that I will be always light and that even though I am tainted by darkness it only completes me and not destroys or dominates me... Shadows he said come into existence when something or someone stands before the light - and that I am the lights foremost defence and cast therefor shadows..."

"Who is this Uncle Nicki, this is not the first time you mentioned him"

the headmaster inquired, fascinated by the fondness with which Harry spoke of this man - the same fondness he uses when he speaks to or of me he realised with a start; even when he called me an old codger...

"You know Uncle Nicki but if you don't guess who is I won't tell you"

Harry answered with a big yawn and tried to curl up in the chair, with a soft curse and a quiet pop he changed into a silver jaguar and curled with a purr into a ball. At least Albus Dumbledore thought that Harrys animagus form was a jaguar till he sprouted a sleek slightly darker wing and spread it over his curled up body.

The animal Harry had become was neither muggle - as the muggles didn't even knew that such an animal existed - nor could it be called magical as its only real magical ability was that it had wings and could fly even though it was a otherwise normal, if you overlooked its colour, jaguar.

Like a phoenix this animal was a light animal but other than the avian this supposedly nocturnal feline had no known light abilities. In some old native American cultures this animal had been worshiped as a god and warrior, even more so than the black panther who was though rare more common than the silver, winged jaguar.

The longer he knew him the more puzzling Harry Andrews became: it always seemed as if Harry was on edge, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment and needed to defend his life - but here he was, curled up on one of his visitor-chairs as if he was completely at ease here in this office.

With a last frown Albus Dumbledore stood up, went around his desk and knelt down besides the large sleeping feline. Hesitating for a moment he started to scratch the jaguar behind one of his ears and was rewarded by a soft purr. Chuckling softly he stood up again and went over to the concealed door that led to his own rooms. After a look back to the young professor he decided to leave the door slightly open so that the young animagus would not panic when he woke up.

The sun had already risen when the headmaster woke up, wondering what was the soft warmth that was lying next to him on his bed though above the covers. Only when he felt soft feathers tickling his chin through his beard did he realise what or rather who the form next to him was, the light weight on his left shoulder supported this realisation and as he opened his eyes and turned his head he found that the door that had been only slightly open when he had went to bed stood now wide open and next to him slept the silver feline Harry had turned into.

As he stood carefully up as to not rouse the feline the large cat stretched and changed soundlessly back into the young man who immediately groaned and buried his head in the now vacated pillows.

"Ron, please never let me drink again - at least nothing your brothers have given me...Ron?"

Harry mumbled sleepily but turned his head groaning as he didn't receive an answer and opened carefully his eyes. Seeing the widely smiling face of the headmaster he continued:

"Uncle Albus, it weren't the twins but you and Uncle Nicki who filled me up, weren't you? You are nearly worse than the twins... scratch that, you two ARE worse!

Do you at least have a hangover potion for me? Last time Uncle Nicki made me beg for it for several hours and all the while Fawkes was singing and Tonks joined that blasted chicken after an hour or so... please don't repeat that I promise that I will be good and not curse anyone!"

As the headmaster stayed silent and the smile changed into a raised eyebrow and a frown Harrys eyes widened in panic and he stood hastily up only to sank back down:

"I'm so sorry, Headmaster... please don't take anything I have said or done yesterday or just now seriously, I wasn't thinking clearly..."

While he spoke Harry was thinking franticly if it would be better to obliviate the headmaster but decided against it as he could not do that to his mentor who was like a grandfather to him. Not knowing what to do further Harry waited for a reaction from the headmaster and watched puzzled as his future mentor left the room without a word and came after a few minutes back with a small vial.

"Here, my child, drink this."

Seeing the distrust in Harrys eyes he explained:

"It is the hangover potion you asked for. Come to my office when you feel better - I believe we have much to discuss!"

walking over to his closet the headmaster choose a fresh robe and vanished in what Harry guessed to be his bathroom.


	10. Please forgive me

Against my better knowledge I will answer some reviews:

1. What does old Albus know?...Hmm, I will that in one of the next chapters – I have already written up to fourteen.

2. Harry will use his wand soon – and it will be noticed!

3. Well, the summary is hinting on what I plan to do with dear Bella, but I will not spoil the fun and tell you now!

4. Right you are: Uncle Nicki is someone well known

5. You will see some of Harrys abilities though only one at the time – some of them will be only hinted at in conversations.

And finally 6. Bellatrix is 13 but as her birthday will be in December – to be exact on Boxin' Day he just jumps ahead those few weeks and says she is 14

_**Back to the future: part ten**_

Left alone in the headmasters bedroom Harry rolled the vial in his hands, berating himself for his idiocy: how could he have been so stupid? Not enough that he had to fall in love with a student, a girl who would be married in his own time and more than twenty years older than him, no he had also go and get drunk and storm then to the headmasters office and as good as tell him who and what he really was!

With a sight Harry opened the small vial and smelled absentmindedly at the murky green potion as Professor Moody had thought him to prevent poisoning. There was no way out of this dilemma he had placed himself in, for once there was no Albus Dumbledore or Hermione or Ron who would help him, but different to the problem with Voldemort he was responsible for this situation, he had caused it with his carelessness and he would have to find a solution for it - and fast!

Gulping the potion down Harry stood up and entered with resolve the office of the headmaster who was already waiting for him.

"Professor Andrews..."

The headmaster motioned with a hand to the same chair Harry had occupied a few hours earlier.

"Headmaster... I know that you have many questions concerning my behaviour but there is nothing I can tell you, nothing I can say in my defence..."

Harry trailed of and placed his chin into his hands, causing his long hair to fall over his shoulders and frame his face.

"Yet I have to ask you these questions and you will give me answers, otherwise I see myself forced to ask you to leave your position here at Hogwarts."

Wide eyed Harry stared at the headmaster, that couldn't happen! The Albus Dumbledore of his own time had told him that he had been teaching Defence for seven years, he couldn't be fired after just a month, he had to stay here!

Defeated Harry asked:

"What do you want to know?"

Before he answered the headmaster conjured two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"Who are you really, I don not believe you that you are the son of Reginald Andrews, you are nothing like your father!"

Only the first question and already Harry could not give a complete answer without telling to much, revealing to much of the future.

"You are right, I am not the son of Reginald Andrews, he doesn't have a son but two daughters... and yet I am a blood relative of him. And my name is what I told you it were except that Andrews is not my last name - and before you ask me even under Verita-Serum I will not tell you my whole name!"

The headmaster frowned at this answer but continued with his second question:

"You mentioned yesterday that you had a connection to someone and that he can not know that you are here - of whom were you speaking and why is it so important that he does not know of your presence?"

Harry immediately answered:

"That is a question I can not answer, it would endanger you and everyone in this world and it would kill me if the answer was ever known to that person."

The frown on the headmasters face deepened and he picked up his cup to drink from his tea. Placing the cup only after a few minutes back down he looked at his professor, Harry reminded him of someone, no, more than one person and yet he was not able to put names to this phantoms.

Had Harry seemed the evening before relaxed he was now tense, even though he seemed strangely at ease with the headmaster; his black hair fell straight down, casting shadows over his face.

"You are an animagus, though I doubt that you are registered as I have never heard of a animagus of your age..."

The headmaster noted that the tenseness left his professor and was replaced by playfulness:

"Neither are you, a snowowl with twinkling blue eyes... very fitting I would say... But I might register in the next weeks, I just had had no time to do so before and I wanted to enjoy the freedom for a few months..."

Harry smirked at the shock that flickered through the headmasters eyes as he mentioned the others animagus form. Of course the headmaster was not registered and would never be, a fact that Harry learned in the summer after his fifth year when the headmaster had visited him instead of allowing Hedwig to return with a letter from Ron. When the headmaster had seen how hopelessly Harry was after the death of Sirius and how heavily the prophecy weighted on him he had changed back and had spoken with Harry, promising to come once in a while during the time he had to stay with the Dursleys.

It had been during that time that he had thought Harry how to become an animagus, they had spend hours training and by the time Harry had went to Grimmauldplace he had nearly been able to change. The most difficult part had been to hide his training form Ron, Hermione

and Ginny.

"I will keep your secret safe, headmaster! I would never endanger you knowing- or willingly!"

Harry added sombrely, trying to ease the mistrust of the headmaster.

"A good friend and mentor thought me shortly before I turned sixteen, before Christmas that year I was able to transform... he saved my sanity with his lessons and visits..."

That summer Harry had thought of giving up, he had seen no chance of winning against Voldemort and after Sirius death he had felt as if every death was his fault, his parents, Sirius, Cedrics... It had been the long talks with the headmaster that convinced him that there was a chance for him to win the war, to survive, that they had just to find that way. He owed the headmaster so much, but all the headmaster wanted was his forgiveness for the mistakes he had made, he gave him more, much more: he gave him his forgiveness and all the love he would have given his parents, the Dursleys, his grandparents, Sirius. It had been then that he had started to call the headmaster Uncle Albus when they were alone.

"When I tried legimency on you I encountered the most unusual shields: instead of a normal shield I entered a void that was blindingly bright but at the same time like darkness itself, further it seemed to burn... what are you that you have a shield of this sort?"

Harry frowned in thought, since the last battle after which he had become a phoenix child no one had tried to enter his mind and when the headmaster tried to enter his mind after he had thought him Occlumency he had had a normal shield...

"I was thought Occlumency but I guess that I am a natural Occlumence since I am not anymore aware that I have raised any shields..."

He shrugged with his shoulders and waited for the next question, just why had he felt the need to get drunk he asked himself once again?!

"Who is the young woman you have fallen in love with - and why does it present a problem, you are able to choose someone who has than to write the proposition..."

What should he answer to that question? He didn't want to tell the truth but what else could he tell the headmaster who would be able to sense if he tried to tell him a lie.

"One of the students, she isn't even old enough to have a proposal written for her... It would be wrong to feel that way for one of my students even though she is only five, nearly four years younger than me...

I know who her family is, what is expected of her and also her future husband, you fear that I am a Dark wizard, you surely would think that if I married into her family..."

The headmaster had to smile at the distress of his young professor who tried his hardest not to answer that particular question:

"You still haven't told me her name, Harry!"

Startled by the use of his first name Harry looked up from the cup of tea he held in his hands and on which he had been starring since the headmaster had asked his last question.

"I have not answered because I fear the answer myself...I have only once before fallen in love and even then it was over before it had really begun, after our first date we had no intention to see each other again because she stilled loved someone else... I fear that this time I will be the one who can not forget who she is, if I were to advance her everything would change..."

The fear of changing the timeline he knew by acknowledging his love for Bellatrix was ever present but would he risk it? Would he follow his heart and risk to change everything or would he deny himself to explore his feelings and doom the girl he loved to the future he knew.

Absentmindedly he answered the question of the headmaster, searching unconsciously for the advice of his future mentor:

"It is Bellatrix Black, she is so intelligent, lively, kind, playful, trusting and beautiful... I have never met someone like her... even though she was raised to hate muggles she has nothing against them and is still firmly against the dark side. She is just so amazing..."

Bellatrix Black... that name had not been among those the headmaster had expected to hear, but she would match what he knew of his young professor: She was intelligent enough to understand the quirky sense of humour of Harry and be able to match his wit in a conversation, her happy optimistic nature would be a good balance for his thoughtful, sometimes fatalistic outlook on the world but he was by no means pessimistic - just realistic and experienced enough to know that not everything went as he wished. Both of them had a strong playful side, Harry even more so than young Miss Black and both seemed to be kind. The only real difference they showed was that Harry seemed to trust no-one completely and while Bellatrix was raised to mistrust everyone she was still very trusting.

Also both of them had black hair and while Harrys eyes were green Bellatrix were blue, from their appearance they would be perfect for each other - but he could not dismiss Harrys words as nothing, he would most likely distrust him even more if he married into one of the three Darkest families in Britain. Neither the Lestranges nor the Malfoys had daughters and therefor a marriage between one of the two unmarried Black-sisters and one of the Lestrange-brothers as well as a marriage between the other Black sister and Lucius Malfoy was certain... if not someone else asked for one of the Black-sisters hands, someone with as much money and ancestry as either the Lestranges or Malfoys.

"Bellatrix Black you say? Yes, you would marry into one of the darkest families - but not all of the Blacks are dark, Bellatrix older sister for example has married a muggle and young Sirius Black, Bellatrix cousin was sorted into Gryffindor - the first in the history of his family or this school...

It might be beneficial for both Miss Black and yourself to seal such a contract and stir her from the dark side, a new Dark Lord is rising and we know almost nothing of him."

Frowning slightly Harry added to the headmasters words:

"And it would also be beneficial to you... So you think I should follow my interests? I know that it wouldn't be against the school-rules or the law but still wouldn't it be against the morals? She is not even fourteen!

She might not even like me and I wouldn't be able to force her into an unwanted relationship with her parents consent just because I was the highest bidder!

I know that Voldemort would break her but that does not give me the right to do the same just under a different intent!"

Harry had balled his hands to fists as he spoke, as he had felt that his feelings had stirred his magic and threatened to leave him, breaking everything around him. Drawing deep breaths to calm down Harry closed his eyes and therefor missed the concerned gaze the headmaster send his way.

"I did not ask you to do anything that might force Miss Black but you would be surprised how many of your female students are more than passingly interested in you - and I believe that Miss Black is one of them.

Harry, this was already the second time that you could barely control your power, has it something to with your exploded wand, the scars on your hand and the fact that a Shadow-phoenix has joined you at such a young age?"

Harry cursed under his breath, why, why had the headmaster have to have such a quick mind? Of course he had not known that his powers shoved so clearly:

"They show? Are you the only one who has noticed something or have others said something?"

"No, as far as I know I am the only one who has noticed something - but you haven't answered my question!"

Harry was not able to look at the headmaster as he decided what to tell him, could he trust him with his secret, with his scar? Having come to a conclusion Harry looked at the headmaster:

"Partly it has something to do with the explosion of my wand, but even before that I had become to powerful for it and needed a new one... my hand was healed by a phoenix and when I woke up, more then a week after the explosion I had scars on my hand, scars that identify my in a way I do not want. I have been judged before by a scar - a scar that is now thankfully gone - that I fear to reveal this new scar to anyone. The same day my wand exploded Nyx joined me, a Shadow phoenix for a silver wizard...

My mentor guesses that I am at least a High Sorcerer if not a Mage but we have yet to test his theory..."

For the first time since Harry had become a phoenix child and Uncle Albus had told him that he might be even more powerful than he or Uncle Nicki did Harry realise what that meant: he would be one of if not the most powerful wizard alive, the last mages had been the four founders of Hogwarts! Frustrated Harry cursed:

"Damn it, I am only eighteen! And if my life hasn't been bad enough I can't even be a normal wizard, not even my wand is normal!"

Albus Dumbledore had watched the young man before him with fascination, as he seemed to realise for the first time what his mentor had told him.

"You might be only eighteen, but you should see it as a gift to have such immense powers, of course with such great powers comes also a great responsibility but you have chosen a good way to find your destiny.

You were speaking of your wand, I have noticed, that you use it very rarely - is there a reason for that?"

Instead of answering Harry withdrew his wand from his wand-holster on his right forearm and twirled it between his fingers, in the light of the morning sun it gleamed red like fresh blood.

"Magic knows no boundaries apart from those we believe in...Gawain - Mr Ollivander - made this wand especially for me, it is Mithril melted first in dragon fire and than burned together with a phoenix. It has a dual core: powdered horn of a unicorn and the first tears of a Daylight-Vampire.

An unusual wand, don't you think, but beautiful, so very beautiful and so powerful..."

Harry trailed off and looked intently at his wand, before he pointed it suddenly and softly whispered:

"Obliviate!"

Almost tangible pain filled his voice as he continued:

"You will remember nothing that happened since I entered your office yesterday evening, instead you will thing that you did some paperwork before you called it an early night. You will forget everything I told or showed you, everything we talked about. As soon as I have left this office you will believe that you just came from your rooms and had sat down behind your desk."

With a flick of his wrist Harry completed the spell and stood up. He did not notice the tears that were leaking form his eyes nor did he realise that he was stumbling. At the door Harry turned around:

"I'm sorry, Uncle Albus, so sorry - I hope that you will someday be able to forgive me... you can't know what I have revealed, if it were possible I would leave but I have to stay here.

Forgive me, Uncle Albus, please forgive me!"

Without a further glance Harry turned around and closed the door behind him. Would he have looked only once at the eyes of the headmaster he would have seen a clear calculating blue that followed his moves and was watching him.

As the door had closed behind Harry the headmaster turned to Fawkes:

"Who is this young man that you allow him to act this way?"

Stroking his beard Albus Dumbledore remained in his chair before he opened a cupboard and withdrew a roll of blank parchment. For minutes the only sound in his office was the sound of a quill scratching over the parchment.

"Fawkes, my friend, please deliver this letter to Nicholas... you don't have to wait for an answer."


	11. You forget all reason

Thanks for the reviews, last time I forgot to answer one of the questions: will there be any other "grey wizards" like Harry?

_**The answer is no, Harry is grey not only because of surviving the Killing curse but also because of one of his powers, his main power at that -–can anyone imagine what that power could be?**_

_**Back to the future: part eleven**_

It was already December when finally someone stopped Harry and asked him why he had become so withdrawn around Halloween. He had just looked at Charles and had answered him again that he had just more work than he had believed he would have and that everything else was alright. Every other professor who had heard them had smiled and promised him again that he would get used to it; only his two best friends and the headmaster knew that not the workload was responsible for his changed behaviour. Though further questions had been prevented as a scarlet phoenix materialised before the headmaster.

"Horus, what a surprise, do you have a message for me or..."

A knock on the door stopped his question, Harry who had been the one who sat closest to the door of the staff-room door stood up to open it. Suppressing the urge to great the man that stood before him as he was used to do Harry leaned forward in a small bow and greeted the older man formally:

"Master Flamel!"

Only the headmaster and the man he had addressed this way had noticed Harrys slight hesitation and the smile that lit up his eyes. Nodding to the young man before him he entered the staff room:

"Good afternoon, young man!"

turning to Albus Dumbledore he continued:

"Hello, Albus! It has been to long since I visited this old halls and you. Can you spare a little bit of your time for an old friend like myself?"

It cost Harry all his control to not show his agitation at this request of the old man: it could be no coincidence that Nicholas Flamel was visiting Hogwarts for the first time in years just as he had arrived here - and nearly two months after he had altered the headmasters memory.

Absentmindedly Harry had drawn his wand and was twirling it between his fingers. He did not notice what all of his colleagues saw: streams of light were flowing out of the tip of his wand circling in an ever faster growing motion around him till he was nearly completely hidden by it. Suddenly the light exploded soundlessly, blinding everyone for a few moments. As the black spots had cleared from their view they saw that Harry had noticed nothing of the spectacle he had caused and was still twirling his wand between his fingers.

Horus who had still been sitting on the headmasters shoulder flew over to Harry who immediately started to pat the phoenix' head; after a while Harry noticed the silence around him and looked up, putting his wand away. Questioning Harry looked at his colleagues and friends till Charles had pity with him and answered his unasked question:

"You have to show me that firework sometime, Harry! Did you use a spell or did you just channel your magic through your wand?"

Thankfully Harry smiled at his friend and shrugged his shoulders:

"Neither - that is not exactly the second: I still have bursts of accidental magic when I am nervous - last time that happened I was holding my wand and changed the colour of a few things around me, one was the hair of my best friend, he didn't speak to me for weeks..."

A smile flickered over Harrys face at the memory: it had been during the holidays before their seventh year when he had read an article in the Daily Prophet that had made him angry, angry enough to loose control over his magic. Most things that had been with him in the room, a room he had just been dusting together with Ron, had changed to white - Rons hair and cloths included. Surprisingly he himself as well as Rons skin had stayed as they were. For three weeks Ron had been forced to go to St. Mungos as no-one including the headmaster and Nickolas Flamel, who had joined them the summer before, had been able to reverse Harrys magical outburst. Only when his hair had regained its original bright orange-red colour did Ron speak to him again. Even Professor Snape had refrained from then on to anger Harry to badly. A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present.

"Young man, I would like to speak with you for a few moments if that is possible."

Still caught up in his own time Harry didn't hesitate to follow his mentor and grandfatherly friend to his mentors office. As soon as they had sat down around the tea table that stood in a corner of the headmasters office Fawkes and Horus who had followed them flew over to Harry and landed both on his lap, a behaviour that was wordlessly observed by the owners of the avians.

"Tell me of your accidental magic, it is unusual that it still happens at your age, how old are you, twenty, twenty-five? Normally it stops when a child starts schooling..."

Nickolas Flamel opened the conversation,

"What kind of accidental magic do you remember doing?"

"Only the usual, apparating to safety, changing the colour of the hair of a teacher I didn't like, making glass vanish..."

Harry trailed of at seeing the disbelieving faces of the two other men and wondered what he had done wrong no

w.

"You apparated accidentally without splinching yourself?"

Albus Dumbledore asked, sure he had misheard what his young professor had said. Seeing the other nod he looked expectantly at his own mentor and friend who had a contemplating look on his face.

"How old were you when you did all this?"

Nicholas Flamel asked Harry, watching closely the young mans reaction.

"When I apparated I was eight and my teachers hair-colour I changed sometime before that... I vanished the glass shortly before my eleventh birthday...

Is that unusual? You are both looking at me as if I had done something impossible!"

For a long time neither of the men answered him till Albus stood up and opened a drawer from his desk and withdrew a thick scroll.

"This is a list of the accidental magic our students have performed in the last two hundred years before they were old enough to come to Hogwarts.

The most impressive burst of magic was that a seven year old doused a fire that was closing him and his cat in. Nothing on this list comes even close to what you have done, nothing!"

Not even trying to hide his shock at this revelation Harry asked feebly if he was maybe a descendant of that boy and had inherited his strong connection to magic from him.

"That is impossible, I don't have any children - and neither does my brother Aberforth!"

At this answer Harry paled even more and seemingly lost himself once again in his thoughts. But what looked to the other two as if he were thinking was in reality a different kind of conversation he was holding with the two avians who were still sitting on his lap.

"Fawkes, why did you never tell me about all this?"

Harry asked his old feathery friend in his mind through the link that had been created between every phoenix and himself when he had been made a phoenix-child and became a Shadow phoenix.

"Because you were not ready to hear it, fletchling. When should I have told you? When we first met in your second year or down in the Chamber? Even if I had tried to tell you you would not have understood me."

As soon as Fawkes had fallen silent Horus spoke up:

"You came the first time to the past to learn everything you could not learn in your own time, to meet your family and to rest far away from everything that plagued you in the future - but you changed many things, some things for the better but also some things for the worse. You came back the second time to change what you had worsened, you even reached your goal - but one thing you forgot, your own happiness. Only when you have found for yourself what you were send here to find, the circle will end and you, your past self will not be send back to this time. Fawkes and myself are the only ones who have been present every time you have been send back. We are your guardians till you have no need for us anymore: we can help you find your way but nothing more."

The two old wizards had watched in fascination as Harrys face changed from slight anger to relieve before he directed his thoughts once again to the two other humans in the room. As he tried to excuse himself the headmaster set out to stop him but was hindered by his old mentor who spoke once Harry had left the room:

"You have nothing to fear from him Albus. Even though he tried to obliviate you you said yourself that his spell lacked the necessary intention and therefor failed. I believe to know what he is - but do not ask me to disclose this information to you before I deem the time right.

Now tell me everything about this young man you know."

Perplexed and slightly angry with his mentor and old friend for not telling him what he believed to know about Henry Andrews Albus Dumbledore let some time pass before he answered.

"His application arrived in the Middle of July, the most promising application I had received so far. The day he should come for his personal application he arrived hours before our meeting should take place. When he finally came to my office he was escorted by Charles Mortimer - and hadn't it been for Charles talent I wouldn't have given him the job even though his knowledge is more than impressive: he knows more about the dark-creatures and some old spells than anyone besides you that I have met.

While he had no problem to tell me that he is the son of Reginald Andrews he declared that he would never become or join a Dark Lord - yet he has lied about many things since he arrived. In his application he wrote that he was twenty five and home-schooled, he told Charles that most of his Defence-teachers had been frauds and that he mostly thought himself in that subject. Then, weeks later he openly confesses to me that he is only eighteen and that he took an ageing potion so that I would not reject his application because of his age."

Hearing Nicholas chuckle Albus raised his eyebrow at his old friend.

"Continue, Albus - I will try to contain my mirth but you have to agree that the young man is clever!"

Scowling Albus continued, yes, he had to agree with his friend but still he did not like it to be played this way!

"The day he tried to obliviate me he agreed that he was not the son of Reginald Andrews, that Reginald didn't even have a son but two daughters - and yet he claims to be directly related to him! How did he gain so much knowledge of Andrews who has managed to hide all these years from everyone?

You saw what kind of magic he was doing in the staff room, that is not the first time I have seen his magic leaking out, he told me that his mentor believes that he is a Sorcerer or even a Mage, there have been no Mages since the Founders - so where does this boy come from, why did he suddenly appear out of nowhere? What are his intentions?

Seemingly without intention he was wearing in the first week the Andrews robes-of-declaration, the silver robes! He claimed that he had overslept and grabbed the first robes that fell into his hands, at that time I believed him but now I am no longer sure!

He told me that he had fallen in love with a girl he could not - or rather should not love: Bellatrix Black, the second daughter of Lysander and Calpurnia Black. I have investigated his relationship to all of his students and have found out some very interesting facts: for one is he transporting letters between Bellatrix Black and her disowned older sister Andromeda who married a muggle and then does he have become a close friend of Henry Potter - the father of Sirius Blacks, the Black heir and Bellatrix cousin, best friend James. So while he claims that he does not want to force her into a marriage he is weaving a web around her that will ensure him if not her love than at least her gratitude and friendship. In that contence he also mentioned that he knew what would become of her, what she would do - but when I asked him if he were a seer he denied it. Even though he was drunk he then remembered a connection he has with someone dangerous, someone who presents a great danger for everyone but whom Harry is sure would kill him immediately if he knew of that connection."

Nicholas had stayed silent while he listened to the headmaster of Hogwarts and even now, as the other man paused to fill his cup and take a sip did he continue his silence.

"When he came to me that evening he was completely drunk, so drunk that I feared that he would kneel over any moment - but when he finally did fall asleep he revealed to me that he is an unregistered animagus: he is a silver winged jaguar. Nickolas, there are only six known members of that species! Worse yet, when I asked him the next morning if he was registered and when he had become an animagus he told me that he had become one when he was not even sixteen - and he knew of my form and that I was also unregistered!

His familiar is a Shadow phoenix and you have seen how taken Fawkes and Horus are with him, every time he enters my office Fawkes flies over to him to be patted, never before has he done that.

When he came for his application, he was not carrying a wand with him and when I asked him the morning after he had been drunk why he was using his wand so scarcely he told me that it was so powerful that he feared it, his wand is Mithril melted first in Dragon-fire and than burned with a phoenix - to top that it has also a dual core of the first tears of a Daylight-vampire and the powdered horn of a unicorn. He told me that Gawain, whom he calls by his first name, has made that wand especially for him.

Surely you have noticed the silver glove he wears on his right hand? He claims that his first wand exploded together with its brother-wand and that his hand was nearly completely burned in the explosion and was healed by a phoenix, leaving only a few scars. A phoenix, he did NOT say his phoenix!, scars he says that identify him. He does not want to have an other scar he is judged and identified by - yet I have seen no other scar on him, no scar that would allow me to judge him.

When I asked him if he would take off his glove for me a tear slit down his cheek and he sounded completely sober when he answered me that he would only take of the glove when I trusted, he would trust me with his life and the life of everyone he cared for but not with his scars...

That evening he spoke not the first time of an "Uncle Nicki" and called me uncle Albus. You have noticed how he hesitated before he greeted you, how he acted as if he had known us for years... when he was drunk he opened up and smiled when I addressed him with "My child".

Young Mister Potter made in their first Defence lesson a joke about Harrys favourite sweets: Blood-Drops and Mint-Leaves, and he told him and the whole class of all the wizards and witches favourites; he knew what sweets you prefer and what the founders liked. He even shares your theory that no-one who is still able to enjoy sweets can be a Dark Lord.

In his very first lesson he asked the fifth years what made Dark Lords Dark Lords in comparison to their followers and when no one was answering he offered them that maybe because they were the first in their generation who found others who were stupid enough to follow them!"

A loud laugh interrupted Albus at this point and he also allowed himself to smile. He could see what his friend found so humorous but he also saw what dangerous games his young professor was playing now that a new Dark Lord was rising.

"You know what he is risking with such opinions yet he does not listen to anyone who asks him for more caution. Every lesson he gives has at least one jibe against Dark Lords, if not on their magical ability than on something else like their stile. If he continues this way there will be nothing that can ensure his safety if this Lord Voldemort ever manages to come into power.

What also puzzles me is that he seems to know so much about this Lord Voldemort and yet tells nothing of him... if it weren't for Charles, Fawkes and Nyx, Harrys phoenix, and now also Horus I would fear that he himself is this Lord Voldemort.

Also when I tried Occlumency on him I encountered a shield like nothing I have ever seen before: at the same time it was blindingly light and all enclosing dark yet so hot that it nearly burned me. When I asked Harry for an explanation he told me that he was thought Occlumency but that he guessed that he was a natural Occlumence. You know that after Merlin the last natural Occlumence was Salazar Slytherin. The only picture of Slytherin in this castle shows him as a young man, a man with long black hair and blue-green eyes. Could Harry be Slytherins descendent or even heir?..."

Before Albus could continue Nickolas interrupted him, a smile on his lips while his brow was furrowed.

"Albus, you are so caught up in your theories about this young man that you forget all reason: He is not Slytherins heir, we both know who Slytherins heir is, luckily his line is not as hidden as Gryffindors.

I know that you want to hear explanations and that you asked me here for aid and guidance - but I can give you none of that. All I can give you is an insurance that Henry Andrews presents no danger to you or the school. Trust the phoenixi, they are willing to be in his presence, more yet, they seek his company and give their tears to heal him.

You say that he is weaving a web around Bellatrix Black? Could it not be that he is just aiding her in keeping contact to her older sister, something that might be otherwise impossible for her to do as Andromeda was disowned? Could it not also be possible that there are other reasons for his friendship with Henry Potter? Did you not tell me years ago of your suspicion that Henry aided Reginald in leaving the wizarding world? When Harry really is related to Reginald Andrews that could be a reason for his friendship with Henry Potter. Have you not noticed that both are named Henry? Henry Potter might even be the godfather of Henry Andrews. Even if your young Professor is trying to lead Miss Black into his arms it would be better for her than to be forced to marry either one of the Lestrange brothers or Lucius Malfoy, the three candidates her parents would prefer.

While I agree with you that the combination of his wand is unusual we both know that Mithril, even more so when it has burned with a phoenix can not be touched by a dark wizard and that the same goes for the first tears of a Daylight Vampire and any form of Unicorn horns.

You say that his hand was burned in the explosion of his wand and its brother wand? If he survived such an explosion he is marked for the rest of his life, whatever the core of those wands was, has either joined his soul or rejected him and you will do good to leave that part of his past alone as I am sure that it was not an event he longs to remember.

And what does it matter that he knows who is addicted to which sweets, neither of us have ever tried to hide the fact that we love a certain candy - so what is the trouble in him telling the students what you or I prefer? While I don't understand how he can eat those disgusting Blood-Drops it does not tell you anything about his character only of his macabre taste.

Be happy that you have found such a competent teacher, dark days will come in the immediate future and the children will need a well founded knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Don't chase him away with your suspicions, if you don't trust me, trust your heart - it will tell you that you have nothing to fear from him for yourself or your school and that you can trust him with the side of the light itself!"

Both friends sat for a long time in silence after Nickolas had ended. Both were lost in their thoughts and watching absentmindedly their familiars when Albus remembered something Harry had said to him on the morning he had tried to obliviate him, unconsciously he spoke the sentence loud:

"Magic knows no boundaries apart from those we believe in..."

With a speed that belied his age Nicholas head snapped around to his friend:

"What did you just say?"

Only now, that he heard the panic in his friends voice did Albus realise what the sentence Harry had used so offhandedly really meant, not only for Harry or himself or Nicholas but for their whole world.

"Harry said that to me when I asked him about his wand: Magic knows no boundaries apart from those we believe in."


	12. He is my darkness, I am his light

_Ok, I see that I have everyone confused with the time travelling so this is what I meant:_

**A) O**---**1971** (James and Co come to Hogwarts)---**1980** (Harry is born)----**1998** (Harry is 18 and is send back to the past with a mission)

→ **B) O**----**1971** (Harry Andrews starts to teach and stays till 1979 when Harry Potter is conceived, he changes the original timeline but not to the point where he wont travel to the past – his parents still die – and is not able to complete the mission with which he was send there)-----**1998 **Harry travels back to the past ( reason which is unknown to him: to repair what he destroyed and complete his mission)

→ **C) O**------**1971 **( Harry Andrews arrives for the second time and again stays till 1979. He is not able to complete his unknown mission and destroys the original timeline further)-----**1998 **(Harry Potter is send for the third time back to the past to complete his mission which is still unknown to him)

→**D) O **-----**1971 **(Harry Andrews arrives for the third time and starts teaching at Hogwarts)

So, I hope I have destroyed all clarity but I will try to explain it further:

Harry always travels **from** the same point of time **to** the same point of time – meaning he leaves his own time ( summer after he finished Hogwarts) and arrives in the past ( summer before his parents start at Hogwarts) each time at exactly the same moment as during his last time-travel.

Fawkes and Horus are the only once that know a) his full mission, b) what he changed each time and c) how far he is allowed to change the present.

The original timeline was destroyed the moment Harry appeared the first time in the past but till that moment it is still the same when he travels for the third time.

The second and third timeline (scenario **B** and **C) **endas soon as Harry travels back in time for the next time ( **B** ends when he jumps at the end of **B**; **C** when he jumps at the end of **C**). **D** is the timeline in which the story takes place.

Harry is able to do minor changes in the timeline as long as he does not something drastic like killing Voldemort before he comes to his full power as that would completely destroy the time-flow: Harry might not be born and would therefor never travel back in time which would leave Voldemort alive... he would cause a Paradox.

Harrys actions in this story will change the time-line he knew (he is after all in his own past) and he will be remembered when he comes back to the future ( it is no longer HIS future as he has just changed the time before he was even born which means that the past he remembered having might not be what will have happened after his time-travel).

Ok, for anyone who is still with me at this point: I didn't mean for it to be so confusing but I will try to make it clearer when the story continues.

As to why that theory is so dangerous... it is explained in this chapter.

Actually Harrys power – the power that makes him a Grey wizard has nothing to do with his time-travel. Ok, that is a lie, it HAS something to do with it but not in the way that it gives him the ability to jump freely through the time but more that it was one of the reasons why he was first send back ( a little hint, it is something Voldemort wants badly, very badly and it is something mythological...)

As for the summer holidays... well, actually I don't know what I am going to do with them as of yet: I may have an overall outline for this story but more like I know what important things will happen like special lessons, pranks... but nothing detailed like what is he going to do in his first big holidays. But after all it is not even Christmas so I still have about six months Story time-line before I have to worry about the summer holidays.

Back to the future: part twelve 

"By Merlin, who is he? Only Merlin believed in this theory, only Merlin had the power to prove it! Since Merlin's death no-one was able to break those boundaries, no-one could break the boundaries of their own imagination and believes!

No-one has dared to speak of this theory in fear that it could destroy our society, our whole world in the search for such unlimited power! Who thought him this theory and does he really believe in it?..."

Nickolas trailed of, not even noticing how unusual Fawkes and Horus were behaving, as if they were listening closely to what was said; they didn't even try to ease the agitation the two men felt.

"Albus, is the office of the defence-professor still where it always was?"

receiving a nod from his former apprentice Nickolas Flamel stood up:

"I will need to have a long talk with your young professor! I am not sure how long I will stay here at Hogwarts but at least for a few days."

Without waiting for an answer Nicholas left the office of the headmaster, leaving a confused and irritated headmaster behind. Walking through the school he barely noticed the curious glances of the students or the greetings of those few who recognised him. He hesitated a moment in front of the classroom door before he opened it. While the classroom was the same as it had been when he went to school or later when he had first thought here, the interior had changed drastically: along the walls hung pictures of the most common dark-creatures and lists of the most effective and most common defence spells. The front of the room, between the teachers desk and the student desks, was left bare and had only markings that indicated that it could be - and was most likely - used as a small duelling area. Forcefully stopping his observations Nicholas walked up to the door that led to the office of the defence-professor and knocked. As if he had been expected the door opened almost immediately. Without a word Harry stepped aside after he had opened the door and walked to the back of the office where the door to his quarters stood open; only when he had reached the door he turned around to his guest:

"I don't particularly like this office, so if you won't mind I would prefer if we could talk in my quarters."

Looking around the office Nickolas noticed that it was barely furnished, only a desk, five chairs a bookcase and a chest of drawers, absolutely nothing personal was visible. As soon as he had entered the personal rooms of the young professor he was flooded by a myriad of colours and images. Clearly dominating the room were cream-coloured walls with green and red ornaments - Slytherin and Gryffindor Nicholas realised in the back of his head. As he looked closer at the walls he noticed, that the walls were covered with many layers of spells.

In the centre of the room stood a small couch table around which two armchairs and a couch were arranged. On the right wall stood a dining-table with four chairs, next to it was a tall fireplace before which a rather small but cosy loveseat was placed. Two of the other walls were filled with bookcases and each had a hidden door - one was the one through which they had just entered - the third, the left wall, harboured a desk that stood under a wide window. On the desk stood a few picture-frames that were also heavily layered with charms and spells.

While he had looked around the room Harry had sat down on one of the armchairs, leaving Nickolas the choice to either face him and sit down on the couch or sit in the other armchair next to Harry; he choose the couch and waited for Harry to open their conversation.

Fascinated he watched as Harry conjured for them each a hot chocolate and next to his guests cup a bowl filled to the brim with a mixture of red pepper, cinnamon and a little bit of sugar.

Seeing this he could not stop himself to ask the young man how he knew how he preferred his chocolate.

"You told me - and even though I can't understand how you can mix those three I have remembered it."

Everything in Harrys posture revealed how agitated and tense he was feeling, yet he made no attempt to ask the other why he had come.

"I notice that you have many spells on your walls and also on those pictures on your desk..."

Nicholas spoke, leaving purposely the choice if that was an offhanded comment or a question to Harry. He was relieved as Harry choose to see it as a question.

"Those pictures you refer to are private - as are those that hang on the wall. While I have just charmed the ones on the desk to show something different, they on the wall are completely hidden to everyone who does not know what they show - and normally you should not even be able to sense the charms and spells I have put on them... but than you are not what one would call normal, aren't you?"

Staring for a moment on the wall were the pictures were hanging he turned back to his guest:

"Why are you really here? Did the headmaster send you here or was it your own wish to visit me? Even if you have the time to sit here for a few hours and wait that I start to get nervous and reveal every secret I have... I don't have the time, I have still the homeworks of five classes to correct and next week start the Christmas exams..."

Wondering how Harry knew so exactly what he was trying to do Nickolas smiled at the much younger man:

"Partly I came because Albus send me and partly because I am curious. First lets start with something uncomplicated: Why are you really here at Hogwarts?"

Harry stared disbelieving at his future friend, if he called that question uncomplicated, than what was complicated for him?

"To teach. Every other reason would be personal, meaning that I won't tell them to you."

Defiantly Harry met the older wizards gaze, he would NOT tell the real reason for his presence, not to the headmaster and not to Nicholas Flamel - hell he didn't even know the complete reason, all he knew was what first the headmaster from his own time and then that morning Fawkes and Horus had told him!

"Hmm, an other easy question: what do you know about Lord Voldemort?"

Harry had to grin at Nickolas ability to ask exactly what he was not going to answer, but it was a bitter grin as even now the thought of Voldemort was giving him nightmares.

"Everything! He is my darkness and I am his light - but that is all I will tell you or anyone else."

At this answer Nickolas had to raise an eyebrow, what did Harry mean with that answer? Voldemort was his darkness and he his light? Inwardly shaking his head he asked the next question.

"Why do you hide your mark? What was it that marked you... I know that it has to have been a light creature, otherwise no phoenix would behave around you as both Fawkes and Horus do."

Silence greeted that question, for endless minutes Harry did not answer and looked intently at the other man. Finally he asked him how he knew that he was marked.

"Your glove, and Albus told me that you had mentioned that your former wand and its brother had exploded. Only when two brother-wands are forced to duel each other and one of the bearers is able to force both of their spells into the other, do wands explode. Most of the time the one who lost that battle dies while the other is judged by the spirit of the creature who gave the core: if he is found worthy he is marked and lives... if he is found unworthy he dies. As you are alive and wearing a glove on your right hand, your wand hand, I know that you are marked."

Hesitating for a moment Harry slowly took the glove off and placed it on the desk between them. Only then did he turn his hand so that Nickolas was able to see what form the scar on the back of Harrys hand had. Sharply he drew in his breath as he recognised the form.

"You were marked by a phoenix! I have known a witch who was marked by a fairy but never have I heard of someone who was deemed worthy by a phoenix! I can now understand why you are wearing a glove, everybody would judge you by that mark. Thank you for honouring me with that knowledge, I will never reveal it to anyone.

May I ask who the phoenix was who marked you and when you were marked? The witch I spoke off was marked when she had already passed her sixty-eight birthday and you are still so young."

Trailing the shape of the phoenix-feather on the back of his hand Harry answered:

"It was Fawkes, that is also the reason why he always flies over to me when I enter the room. He marked me this June, a month before I turned eighteen... but even though Fawkes is a fire phoenix I am not, my element never was and never will be fire, I am at home in the air, in the light and the darkness...

Can you tell me what all it entails to be marked by a magical creature, I know only a few things about it and neither Fawkes nor Horus are very talkative concerning that matter."

It took a moment before Nicholas realised what Harry had just said:

"You can talk to them and understand them? That must be fascinating how much they must be able to tell you...!"

A real smile, the first real smile Nicholas saw on Harry, spread over Harrys face, revealing his true age to the older man.

"It would be interesting if they were willing to tell me what they know but most of the time they just say that I have to find it out for myself. Or how many Lemon-Drops the headmaster had had that day. And Horus finds that your Eucalyptus-Twirls are to sweet..."

Nicholas laughed as he heard that his phoenix liked his favourite sweets but found them to sweet; still smiling he started to answer Harrys question:

"I don't know much about those who are marked, in my long life I have met only one: my oldest daughter who was marked by a fairy. She told me, that you gain all abilities of those who marked you - but as the abilities of a phoenix are mostly unknown I can't tell you what abilities you gained. Also would you be able to change into the creature that marked you, I guess that you are the Shadow phoenix that visited Albus, and would be able to live as long as your magical-creature... or die as soon as you wish. Since you were marked you are no longer bound to the laws of nature, you can choose the time of your death or can decide to live the rest of your life in the form of the creature you have become: my daughter choose after the death of her husband to live as a fairy till her children and grandchildren had also died and she faded to be once again united with them."

His mind was lost in memories of his oldest daughter as he took a sip from his hot chocolate. It had not been soon after she had been marked that her husband had died and she had become a fairy for the rest of her life - the "fairy-tale" of Cinderella had been caused by his daughter who had helped a young muggle girl against her family to gain the hand of the man she loved. Even though the tale that was now told to the children was far from the truth, so had for example the young man not been a prince but the oldest son of a rich merchant and the stepmother had not used the girl as her personal slave - she had just been against a marriage as the father of the young man had been responsible for the death of her own father - and there had also not been any step-sisters... yet he still loved to hear and tell the fairy tale as he always remembered his daughter. The reason why he had accepted Albus Dumbledore as his apprentice - the only apprentice he had ever taken - was that Albus was one of his descendants, a descendant of his oldest daughter. The thought of Albus brought him back to the reason why he had sought a conversation with the young man before him:

"Magic knows no boundaries apart from those we believe in... that is a very dangerous idea you support. Are you aware, what disaster that idea could cause, that if the students were thought that way we would have more than one Dark Lord every few years?"

Harry looked at him with his amazingly green eyes before he closed them for a moment. When he opened them again they didn't seemed as young and carefree as they had been during their whole conversation but instead old and tired.

"It is a dangerous theory, I know that more than most - and yet it is more than a mere idea or theory, it is the truth, the only truth. My mentor once told me that the truth is a very dangerous thing and that we have to be very sure if we really want to know it...

I grew up being told that magic doesn't exist: "there is no such nonsense like magic!", magic was a forbidden word, yet around me happened things that were clearly magic. When I was eleven I learned that there was such a thing like magic - and that there were certain rules and boundaries that surrounded the use of magic. When I grew older I noticed that certain of these rules didn't seem to apply for me, I believed that it was just luck or something else like that I was powerful for my age... Then when I was fifteen I learned that I was something special and nothing that I could do would ever change that.

Slowly I learned to think around those rules and was aided by my mentor who had thought me above everything else to believe in myself. The more I believed in myself the more rules seemed meaningless for me, till I discovered this theory... Only with this theory I could fulfil my fate - and live. The duel in which my wand was destroyed was a duel of life or death, a duel that had started even before my birth.

Today there is only one rule, one boundary that I am bound to, the only true boundary of nature, of life: there is nothing that could make death undone. There are so many dead who I would revive if it were possible and yet I know that I could not do it. Whatever I do, I try not to change the timeline and the fate and destiny of the world itself...

Never would I teach this theory, but you have to know that Voldemort is aware of it and trying to breach all boundaries to gain immortality. He has found Slytherins manuscripts while he was still here at Hogwarts and Slytherin had written that theory down, warning everyone not to misuse it. Yet even though Voldemort is trying to break all the boundaries he knows he will never reach his goal, if he would break his own greatest boundary he would no longer be Voldemort but just a broken Tom Riddle who has lost everything."

While he spoke Harry had stood up and went over to one of the bookcases. Waving his hand before it a small hidden chamber opened and revealed a wooden chest. Taking the chest out of the chamber Harry returned to Nicholas.

"You seem surprised that I know who Voldemort really is... didn't I say that he is my darkness? In this chest are Slytherins manuscripts... you won't be able to read them as they are written in Parseltongue and I doubt that you would want the ability to understand and speak it, it is an ability I gained when I was still a toddler, I was not born with it but it has become a part of me and even though I could rid myself of it I have decided to keep it...

Anyway if you desire to read this manuscript I will put a personal translation-charm for you on them but you have to promise me that you will not give them to anyone or even mention them to anyone till you find an other Pareslmouth, a Pareslmouth who would give his life to defeat Voldemort!"

Observing Harry Nicholas raised slowly his hand to accept the chest. In one thing he had to agree with Albus, the longer he knew this young man who called himself Harry Andrews, the more of a mystery he became.

"I will promise you that - but I ask you to answer me one last question, and I will swear to you with my life and magic that I will tell no one the answer: what is your true name and who are your parents?"

A pain-filled smile flickered over Harrys face and settled in his eyes. With a wave of his hand the charms and spells on the walls vanished and two large pictures appeared: one showed a young couple, a couple from which the man seemed familiar, the other showed two men, who seemed to look much older than they should have.

"The couple are my parents - the other picture shows my godfather and my honorary godfather... all of them are dead, killed, murdered with the help of people they once trusted, called family...

This once I will tell you my name but I will never again speak of it to you:

My name is Henry - Harry - James Reginald Potter, my parents are James August Potter and Lilly Marie Potter, born Andrews. I am named after my grandfathers and my father."


	13. I'll be home for Christmas

Hmm, Locathah at first I was confused by your review but than I saw what you meant, none of the Harries (HarryA, HarryB, HarryC) will be the same as the one before, BUT none of them will grew up with their parents.

You are right, HarryC is a different person than HarryB: the decisions HarryA made lead to the life and personality of HarryB, which of course influenced the decisions HarryB makes when he goes back in time. But HarryA ( or HarryB) do not cease to exsist the moment the next Harry enters 1971 but whit each decision he makes during the past they fade a little bit more:

say HarryB did not wear his robes of declaration in his first week at school but instead in the first week of year seven, meaning that some of the girls whose declaration he might have received are already married or betrothed. One of this girls could have been the one girl he wanted to marry...

Now HarryC has no idea what HarryB did and therfor grabs the robes in the first week of the first year. He gets many offers and excepts one of them – an offer that was not made to HarryB because that girl had already married someone else.

In the time-line HarryB creates ( and HarryC grows up) this girl might have children who are in Harrys year and have an impact on him or might otherwise influence his life ( think Rita Skeeter). But as HarryC marries that girl he erases her previous life, the life he remembered her leading. There will be a point in the story where Harry gets to feel the backlash off all the changes he made: when he gets back to the point where he started.

Yes, I know that it might seem confusing but there are fix-dates in my story:

**1. **1971 EVERY of my Harrys enters the past at the same date

**2.** Halloween 1979: the day EVERY Harry goes back to the future (therefor the name of my story)

because at this day Harry is conceived and there can't be an other Harry in the time-frame.

I will explain this point somewhere in the story as it has something to do with Harrys main power.

**3.** July 31st 1980, Harrys birth

**4.** October 31st 1981 Harry becomes The-Boy-Who-Lived

**5.** September 1st Harry begins Hogwarts

and **6.** July 1998 Harry goes back in time.

I think I should mention something important about Harrys time-travel: it is not something he has control over, he is send back and forth by a Higher Power, the first time partly as a reward and partly to make it impossible for Voldemort to carry through with one of his plans ( more to this point later in the story), the second time because he died while he was there ( meaning there was no-one left to send back to the future) and the third time because even though he lived the second time he managed to change one important little fact to the worse and must now set it right.

I had no idea that a movie with this title exists, is it any good?

**Back to the future 13**

Silently Nicholas watched as the students hurried their breakfast in order to catch the carriages that would bring them to the Hogsmead station. A week had past since his first encounter with Harry Potter or Harry Andrews as the younger man called himself. It had been a great shock to learn who the young man really was – and what his identity implied. Since that night they had spoken only once and Harry had given no indication that the older man knew who he really was, quiet the contrary, he acted as if he truly admired the old sorcerer but knew nothing more about him than what could be found in books. He knew that he could grow very fond of the young man if he would allow him to get near enough to him to be able to see past the multiple shields he had raised around himself.

While the great alchemist pondered him, Harrys thoughts circled around the impending Christmas holidays – and his subsequent stay with his father and grandparents. A question from Charles where he would spend his holidays drew him away from the images his mind had conjured.

"A friend of my father - and I hope also myself - invited me over to spend the holidays with him and his family. I will be leaving together with the students and take the train with them... and like a student I will be picked up at Kings Cross."

A wistful smile flickered over Harrys face as he thought about it: for the first time he would be picked up by his family to spend Christmas together with them, even though they had no idea that he was family.

"Does this friend of yours also have a name?"

Came a teasing voice from his left. During his whole time as a student, as a Gryffindor, would he never have imagined how open and careless his head of house and transfiguration professor could be.

"Mmh, yes, Minerva, I do believe that he goes by the name of Henry Potter...He was shocked to learn that my father is dead and that he lived all this years as a muggle, he really seemed to care for him.

Anyway I can't wait to see James face when he realises that he will be spending his holidays with his DADA professor."

The smile on Harrys face had by now transformed into a full blown grin, a grin that reminded some of his colleagues of the grin that Henry Potter used to wear when he had successfully pulled a prank or talked himself out of a detention. For the first time since Harry had revealed his true identity to Nicholas did he seek the older mans eyes and for a brief moment he allowed the walls that surrounded his self to fall. The weariness and sadness that he saw in the bright green eyes shocked the old man; he had known since he had first met him that the boy was hurting but he had not expected to encounter so deep wounds. What would happen in the future that someone so young could become so weary?

Albus Dumbledore had carefully watched the interactions between his old friend and mentor and his youngest professor since the Nicholas had come to the school – and he didn't know what he should think of them. He knew that it was not easy to gain Nicholas affection and wondered how Harry Andrews had managed just that within mere hours; he had even gone so far as cast a small curse-detection spell on his friend, just to find out that he was in no way being controlled. He frowned as he heard that the professor would spend the holidays with the Potters but he could think of no way to forbid it as Andrews had asked during the first week of term for permission to spend the holidays away from school.

Harry could barely contain his anxiety as he sat down in an empty compartment of the train – he had just apparated down there from his quarters in order to avoid the students...and of course the headmaster – and the Testrals . He had seen the calculating glances the headmaster shifted between Uncle Nicki and himself. Surprisingly he was not hurt by the suspicions of the headmaster towards him, on the contrary it made it easier for him to separate the headmaster from his Uncle Albus, something he had feared he would not be able to do when he came back.

The lurch of the train as it began moving interrupted his toughs, especially as the door opened moments later and a timid student entered and addressed him shyly:

"Professor, may I sit here, everywhere else it is already full..."

A comforting smile graced Harrys face as he smiled at the timid first year that stood in the door and he wondered, why it was that he felt especially drawn to this student, more than to his own future parents or godfather.

"Of, course you may sit here Mr Snape..."

and as the small boy sat in the seat farest away from him he smiled encouragingly at him and continued:

"So how do you like Hogwarts so far, I would like to hear the opinion of a fellow first year of the castle, the classes, the students and teachers."

For a moment Severus Snape was puzzled at his professors behaviour. Sure, Professor Andrews had always been nice to him and everyone else but he could not understand his behaviour. At home he had always been taught that Purebloods were better than everyone else and that only weaklings could think different and act with respect to those inferior to them – and that also included the way teachers should act towards their students if they weren't higher ranking. So why was Professor Andrews so nice? He knew from which family his professor came, he had recognised the crest as he had been forced like every other proud pureblood to learn the crests of the old families by heart before he entered Hogwarts.

"I like it, sir, but some of the students are so... so loud."

Severus cringed a little bit at his last words, even though it did describe how he felt about most of his classmates it was not exactly what he meant and was not exactly polite. The grin on his professors face only added to his discomfort.

"They do tend to be rather loud, don't they? You are an only child Mr Snape?"

besides the wish to only nod his upbringing forced Severus to mutter a soft

"Yes, sir."

He was not seeing how the information could be relevant for his professor – but as he was his professor and his superior in status he had to be at all time respectful.

"As am I, it makes it somewhat harder to get comfortable with those your own age..."

Harry trailed off, yes he was an only child but he hadn't by far been raised alone, there had always been Dudley... but than his "family" the Dursleys hadn't exactly raised him, they had given him a list of chores and told him to stay out of sight.

"And how do you like the classes? I must confess that I have no idea how I am doing, I had never thought students before and the Defence teachers I had were far from good – most of them tried to kill or torture me at one point..."

Several hour later a happy but bewildered first year left the compartment, never before had an adult talked to him as if he was an equal and worth their attention. Even though he liked and respected his Head of House Professor Mortimer he quickly began to think of Professor Andrews as a confident.

With a sad expression Harry watched as Severus was picked up by a couple that reminded him strongly of the Dursleys, even though both were tall and slim, no, both had an expression that was for him easily readable as disgust, disgust that was clearly aimed at their son.

His face lit up as he saw the three Potter waiting near the barrier for him, James face showed clearly that he had no idea why they were still there and not on their way home. As soon as James saw him he waved him over and introduced him to his parents, not knowing that they already knew each other quiet well. Only when Harry touched next to him their portkey did he realise that his professor was the holiday-guest his parents had mentioned in their last letter.

The portkey took them to a long driveway that led up to a large Manor. With flourish Henry bowed before Harry and grinned at his younger friend:

"Welcome to Godrics Castle, home to the most noble line of Gryffindor – I mean Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friends slip-up but decided not to comment it, at least not yet and not with James around. With wonder Harry turned to face the Manor, in his own time he had never had the opportunity to visit Godrics-Hollow, much less his ancestral home which he was now looking at. All he knew about his home was that Sirius had fled to James and his family after he had run away with fifteen.

The Manor seemed old enough to back up Henrys claim that it was home of the line of Gryffindor – Potter. From the outside it looked like one of those old country-castles that could be found all over Britain: an open tower, high windows, vast gardens...but most off all it felt like home, as if he belonged here. Harry was barely able to suppress a snort at that thought, he DID belong there! Maybe not in that time-frame as he was yet to be born, but he WAS a Potter, the last of his line. When he had first entered Hogwarts he had felt at home, but now he felt as if a long missing part of himself had returned to him.

As they entered the Manor Harry felt a shiver run through him, the wards were recognising his blood, his line and were welcoming him, keying him automatically into all defences and other wards, giving him full access and knowledge of the house and grounds. For moments Harry feared that Henry would feel the shift of the wards but the other man gave no indication that anything was different. It was James who broke the silence that had settled over their group:

"Dad, how come that the Professor can enter the house, after all he isn't a Potter?"

"The same way I was able to enter before I married your father and the same way your fiancée will be able to enter: your father as the head of the family considers him as a member of our family and as such the wards allow him to pass as long as he is in the company of your father or myself as his spouse."

Lucretia answered her son, even though her eyes were trained on Harry who couldn't help but gasp as he heard her explanation.

"Blood- AND Signature-wards? So that is why they felt so unusual! I have never before felt them in combination, only separate. Do you know who cast them, I would love to hear how they managed to overcome the problem with the forced blood-bonds..."

Sheepishly Harry stopped his rant as he noticed his three host look at him in amusement; with a shrug and a embarrassed smile he apologised:

"Sorry, but wards have been kind of a hobby for me since I started to be able to feel them and this are some of the most interesting wards I have felt – to tell the truth only Hogwarts wards are more unique and interesting."

While the two adults only smiled at his enthusiasm James openly stared at him. He had known that his professor was unusual even by wizard-standards but to recognise wards by the way they felt? And than there was also the fact that his professor acted like he –or one of his friends – would have acted when embarrassed, not like an adult but like a teenager. Without thought he blurted out:

"Professor, how old are you?"

immediately James was scolded by his parents while Harry turned first pale and than an amazing shade of red. Even though Henry and Lucretia were scolding their son it was clear that they were also interested in his answer, so Harry finally mumbled the number.

"You are what? And Albus still hired you, knowing that you were just a few months older than the oldest students? The man IS loosing it!"

Both adult Potters were more amazed than shocked or angry at hearing that one of their sons teachers was just eighteen. Suddenly a grin stole itself on Henrys face as he observed his young guest:

"He didn't know, did he? Oh, I wished I had seen his face when he learned your age, outsmarted by a teenager! Bloody hilarious!


	14. Christmas with the Potters

**Back to the future 14**

It was Christmas morning, a morning Harry dreaded as much as he longed for it, the first Christmas with his family – at least the first he would be able to remember. The week he had so far spend with his grandparents and father had been both joy- and painful for him, knowing that that may very well be the only Christmas he would ever be ale to spend with them: his grandparents had both been killed by Voldemort before he had even been born and he didn't dare to believe that he would be able to spend every Christmas while he was in the past with his family.

Already on the first day of the holidays he had learned of the many Christmas traditions the Potters, his family, had: the first day back – it was the twentieth – was spend making a small personal present for every member of the family and every friend without magic and without spending any money, the only rule was that it had to be personal. On the twenty third the whole family went together to Diagon Alley to just enjoy the Christmas cheer before coming back in the early evening to fell a Christmas tree – or rather uproot it so that it could be replanted after the holidays.

The tree was placed in the living room left from the fireplace which was decorated alternating with red and gold socks. All around the room could fairy-lights be found, not those used by muggles but real fairy-lights, gifted to wizards and witches for their services and honour by a fairy. To possess so many was more than unusual and Harry knew that he would visit his home, this home, as soon as he was back in his own time.

On the twenty fourth the tree was decorated in the morning before the door was closed till the next morning and the rest of the day was spend making some last minute backing and playing games, not only magical but also muggle. The Christmas cheer in the house had reminded him so much of the only Christmas he had spend with Sirius that he had had of ten to pause in whatever he had been doing at that moment as to not burst in tears. He knew that the Potters wondered about his behaviour but he was not willing to give them any explanation – and what should he say? That that was the first Christmas he ever spend with his father and his grandparents? Or that he missed his godfather and his uncle Moony?

Sighting Harry stood up and went to the bathroom, praying for the day to be over soon. Twenty minutes later he stood in front off his open wardrobe and wondered what he should wear. He had asked his grandmother – no, not grandmother, Lucretia, what he should wear and she had suggested something comfortable, that there was no need for robes as it was only family. Yes, it was only family, she had no idea how true her statement was or had she? He had seen the glances she had been shooting him whenever she thought that he was not noticing but he could not fathom a reason for that. Finally after almost five minutes he settled on a pair of black slacks Bill had bought for him when he had turned seventeen: they were low cut and rather form-fitting but very comfortable as they were woven of raw silk. The shirt he wore came surprisingly from Professor McGonagall who had explained that a friend of hers had had such a shirt and that she thought that it would fit him well; he had to remember to wear it when he was back at Hogwarts. The shirt or blouse was of a striking emerald green silk, exactly the colour of his eyes and was laced up with a strip of black silk.

Walking over to the mirror Harry wondered if he should tie his hair back or leave it open, here in this time was no Lucius Malfoy with long hair, his father was still alive and therefor it was not proper for the son to grow his hair out. Only a few heads of a family wore their hair short, his grandfather being one of them but for his grandfather it had nothing to do with being against the tradition and more with the fact that the Potter-hair was barely manageable. Harry was lucky as he had also inherited the thick straight hair from the Andrews side and his hair was only unmanageable when short. Resolutely he tied his hair after a few moments back with a strip of green silk. After a last glance into the mirror he decided that he could pose for a poster of the perfect Slytherin if he were to change the colour of the band of silk that tied up his shirt into silver.

Strapping his wand onto his right forearm with a wand-holder Kingsley Shackelbolt and Alastor Moody had gifted him he left his guest-room and walked to the personal dining room where they would have breakfast before opening their presents. As he entered the Potters were already waiting for him and James choked on a sip of hot chocolate as he saw his professor. He had always pictured him a the perfect Gryffindor: brave and strong, loving pranks and hating Slytherins. That he was fair to the Slytherins in class was understandable, after all teachers had to be fair, but the young man that walked into the room looked nothing like a Gryffindor, in the contrary, he looked like the perfect Slytherin!

Lucretia smiled as she observed her sons reaction to the entrance of his young professor and wondered if Harry knew how he looked and moved. Looking into his eyes as he sat down next to James opposite from her she decided that he had no idea that he moved like a predator who had spotted his prey. It was the same way her brothers moved, partly born from their natural grace and partly from the hard training they had underwent in their youth. Yet... she was a Borgia, her brothers were Borgia, they were trained from birth to rule and to fight, they were one of the last old houses left in the wizarding world and the muggle-world believed her family to be extinct. This young man couldn't be one of her own family, could he? Wouldn't she have known of him? Yet there was no mistake in the way he moved, the way his presence, his power was felt the moment he entered a room. Borgia had always held positions of great power no matter if in the muggle or magical world. She could feel his power, the same power that was held in her family and yet he felt different, as if he held back, something no Borgia did if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

His eyes were just like Reginalds, as was his sense of dressing: always a little bit provoking, not enough to offend anyone but enough to stand out. It was almost as if he had his best friend back, but the next moment Harry would smile and become like one of his own family, he had the same smile Rosalie had had. Shy and at the same time daring. He had always hoped for a daughter, a daughter that he could spoil in memory of his sister. Harry was a mystery to him, he could not deny it especially after he had felt that the wards had allowed him entrance without him needing to approve.

The breakfast that morning was unusually quiet for the Potter household but all present had their thoughts on different matters, not to forget the presents that were waiting for them in the living room. The next Christmas tradition he encountered was one he vowed to keep up when he return, even if it was just to annoy Ron: the oldest member of the family opened all of their presents first while everyone else waited and watched only after the last package of the oldest was opened were the others allowed to touch theirs. It was funny to watch James bouncing in his chair while he waited for his parents and professors to finally finish with their presents.

Harry had spend many afternoons thinking of what to get his family that would not reveal to much and had finally decided on some rather "simple" things: James had gotten a book on non-magical pranks, Henry who was interested in medieval weaponry a beautiful dagger from Merlin's time that Harry had found after an extensive search in the Andrews armoury and Lucretia a bracelet he had ordered in a jewellery in Diagon Alley. After much thought he had also bought presents for his mothers family, claiming to be a distant relative who had just learned of their existence: for Petunia he had bought a simple charm-necklace he remembered her wearing in his own time, it was a silver heart inscribed with the words don't fear the darkness, rejoice in the light´. His grandmother had received a similar charm-necklace as Petunia only that hers was made out of gold and had instead of an inscription a small picture of her husband as a child inside. For Lily he had ordered a bracelet which meaning would reveal itself later to his future mother: a stag that carried a delicate Lily in its mouth.

For his grandfather finally he had only written a long letter, telling him, that the name Andrews would be redeemed in the future for fighting steadfastly on the side of the light; he knew from his grandfathers diaries which he had found in the Andrews vault that his grandfather had always blamed himself for what he had done and that he had regretted nothing deeper than joining Grindewalt.

Harry had barely noticed that everyone – especially James - was waiting for him to open his presents which consisted also of a stack of letters which Harry shoved hastily aside without even opening them. The first package he opened was from Charles. As soon as he saw what it was he turned a deep shade of red before trying to place it out of reach of both Henry and James but they saw what he was attempting do to and managed to snack it from him to his eternal embarrassment. Even worse it was James who fished the potion vials out of the package and read the labels to his parents:

"Hmm, lets see, these six are Hangover potions, two labelled mild, two medium and two strong, and this one is ...ohhh,"

here it was James turn to be embarrassed as he read the next label, the label of the vial Harry had picked up first; with wide eyes James looked at his professor before turning to his parents and then back to his professor before finally deciding that he had no reason to be embarrassed as it was not his present and continued reading while Harry had decided that he would be able to live through this moment:

"Ok, this one is labelled with: You know that you have the right to test the candidates who are not pure, use this to ensure no no further responisbilities´ thought I have no idea what kind of potion that is, six of the others have the same label but the others seem different..."

Before James could pick of one of those other vials Lucretia had snatched the package out of his sons hands and placed it between herself and Harry while throwing scolding glances at her smirking husband and wide-eyed son.

Minervas package was rather harmless compared to Charles as it insisted of a pair of form fitting slacks and a also form fitting shirt with a note that let Harry once again wonder how the students missed Minervas devious streak: Harry, you have half the students drooling over you, give them a reason to do so!´. That time none of the Potter males tried to get the note out of his hands.

Dumbledore send him a few bags of Blood-Drops and Mint-Leaves as well as an obscure book of forgotten Defence Tactics while Nicholas send him a small stone that was filled with a swirling liquid that took different shapes. Knowing what it was Harry left it in the box it was send in and moved on to the next package: he did not need is family to find out just how powerful he was.

Andromeda and Ted had send him a book about the most known wizards and squibs in the muggle-world while Bellatrix had him a book about the oldest wizard-lines and a short letter thanking him for his help. Unsurprisingly it was the present from his grandparents and father that he cherished most: it was a thick leather-bound photo-album filled with photos of a young Reginald Andrews and Henry Potter. The most recent picture was taken at their graduation from Hogwarts. By far the most unusual present came from Hagrid and Filius who had gotten him a present together as its making had required the use of magic: a beautiful carved statue of a phoenix – of course it was black – that was able to flap his wings and levitated for short times.

After they had watched James open his numerous presents Harry went up to his guest-rooms to read the numerous letters he had received he mused how spoilt his father really was, was it normal for a child to count their presents, he knew that Ron did so – as did Dudley - and were it just the mistreated, neglected children who were amazed over every single present, not daring to hope that there were even more for them? He would have to ask Hermione when he got back to his own time what her opinion was on that matter. Absentmindedly he read over the different proposals as he did every morning, knowing that none of the offered´ girls appealed to him.

He was interrupted from his tedious task as Lucretia called for him for their annual snowman building.


	15. Does history repeat itself?

**Back to the future 15**

Hesitantly Harry sat down at the breakfast table at Boxing Day, he knew that this day would end horrible, he had no doubt about it. At Christmas dinner the day before he had learned of an other Potter family tradition: on Boxing Day the family of Lucretia would visit, her two brothers Marcello and Iulianus together with their wives and children as well as Lucretias parents. He had never wondered what had happened to his family besides his parents, believing that he would have been told if any of them had still been alive... and yet he wondered if they were really all dead in his own time. What happened to them? When he had looked into the Mirror Of Erised in his first year he had seen his family, his grandparents, his cousins, great uncles, he had seen them all – and had assumed that they were all dead but were they?

The arrival of a house-elf with the post brought him out of his thoughts, especially as the elf bowed before him after it had delivered a letter to Lucretia and a newspaper to both of the adult Potters as well as a letter to James. Having nothing better to do Harry paged through the stack of twenty letters he had received, some were from Hogwarts, thank you's from his colleagues for their respective gifts but the rest were as usual proposals. Just as Harry wanted to put the stack aside to read them later in his room did a seal catch his eyes. He had seen that particular crest numerous times in a slight variation: silver instead of blue.

Without noticing that he had paled or that his hands were trembling Harry opened the letter and read it. Halfway through the letter Harry excused himself, gathered his other letters and hurried to his rooms. He had hoped and feared that he would get that particular proposal, hoped that he would get a chance with the girl he was sure he had fallen in love with and feared because he knew her future – or what had been her future.

Pacing in front of the large window of the room Harry debated with himself if he should continue to read the letter or if he should just burn and forget all about it. This one letter could change the future or his past or whatever he should call the next few years and he was not sure if that would be a good think but then maybe it would be a good think, maybe that was the reason why he had come to this time.

Drawing a deep breath Harry once again unfolded the letter and continued to read where he had stopped. He had known that the Blacks were a rich family, after all he had inherited the Black fortune from Sirius but Bellatrix was Sirius cousin, the second daughter of the younger brother of Sirius father and had therefor no access to the main fortune of the Black family. Still... as she was the sole heir – besides Narcissas' dowry - of Lysander Black and her mother Calpurnia had also brought a large fortune into her marriage Bellatrix would be quite wealthy. Though all of her fortune would go over to her husband on the moment of the first intercourse as that meant after ancient law that she belonged from thereon to his family and he could not cast her out – that is as long as she remained faithful.

Her magical inheritance was even more impressive than her monetary: not only had she the potential to become a minor Sorceress but she was , or rather would be as soon as she had completed her magical maturity, an Aura seer.

Reading this Harry wondered how her parents had ever been able to subject her to Rudolphus Lestrange or worse yet Voldemort: the Aura of a person reflected their emotions, their intentions and their raw power: good intentions and emotions became calming, soothing colours in the Aura but emotions like hate became violent shades that hurt the unfortunate person who could see the Aura. No wonder that the Bellatrix he had known was insane, she had literally been tortured since she had come into her magical inheritance!

Sighing Harry continued to read the proposal and picked up the second parchment that did no longer contain the blunt facts about his student but rather the terms an engagement would require in the eyes of the Blacks. The list of requirements was long and consisted on his part mostly of being a pureblood and being wealthy. But what really surprised him was a sentence near the end of the letter: he was allowed to choose the further schooling and living arrangements for his betrothed as soon as he agreed to the engagement.

With a frown Harry placed the parchment down and picked up the other letters he had received that morning. It would not do to dwell on that particular proposal at that time, he would have to think about it and maybe even talk to Fawkes if he got the chance. Absentmindedly Harry read over the other proposals, thinking all the while of the one he longed to accept.

He had just finished the letter from Minerva, thanking him for the catnip and cat-figurine he had send her, when Henry knocked on his door.

"Can I come in, Harry?"

With a nod Harry allowed the older man entry, his thoughts still on the proposal of Bellatrix parents.

"Is everything ok? You seemed panicked when you recognised the seal on the letter... and when you didn't come to lunch..."

Henry trailed of, observing the younger man closely as he placed a plate with sandwiches before him, he still looked slightly panicked but not as pronounced as at breakfast. With a grateful smile Harry picked up one of the sandwiches, contemplating what he should say to his grandfather, no his friend. As he had finished to sandwich he had decided to tell at least part of the truth.

"You know, that I accidentally wore my robes of declaration in the first week of classes, right?"

Seeing the confirming nod he continued, his hand playing absentmindedly with his hair that he had gathered over his right shoulder.

"After I wore them I fell in love, knowing that nothing would ever come out of my infatuation... This morning I received a proposal from her parents."

Bewildered Henry raised an eyebrow:

"So do I understand you right, you are worried because you got the chance to pursue a relationship with the girl you are in love with? I would think you would be happy about it!"

Yes, Harry though, if it were anyone else than Bellatrix Black I would be happy – ok maybe not if it were the mother of one of my friends...

"I would be happy but she is a student, I can't have a relationship with one of my students! And then there is her family..."

Henry interrupted his young friend with a shake of his head,

"You mean you are so distraught because you fell for one of your students? Do you honestly believe that you are the first to whom that happened?"

By now he was outright grinning at Harry,

"Let me tell you a little known fact about one of the founders of Hogwarts, Godric Gryffindor in fact. When they built and later opened the school he was still unmarried and stayed so for the first ten years of Hogwarts existence, till his eyes fell on one of the new first years. At first he only thought her talented and beautiful for her age but later, when she grew older he fell in love with her. By the time she reached her seventh year he proposed to her and married her, even though her father was against it, claiming that Gryffindor was to old for his daughter. The name of the girl was Salira, only daughter and eldest child of Salazar Slytherin. It was because of this marriage that Slytherin left Hogwarts, not because he hated all muggle-born; true, he didn't like them but he didn't hate them or wanted them dead. Slytherin disowned Salira because she married Godric and wowed to destroy him yet when they met again it was Gryffindor who managed to slay Slytherin.

You see, you are not the first to fall in love with one of your students!"

Incredulously Harry stared at Henry, if the rumours were true and the Potters were the heirs of Gryffindor, didn't that also mean that they were the heirs of Slytherin?

"You are the heir of Gryffindor, aren't you? But wouldn't what you just told me make you also the heir of Slytherin?"

Henry hesitated before answering, he had hoped that Harry would not come to that conclusion but now it was to late to back out.

"Yes, the Potters are the heirs of Gryffindor, that was the reason why Grindewalt came after us and why James and I are the only ones left. As for Slytherin... we would be Slytherins heirs if he hadn't disowned Salira. All her magic was blocked when he disowned her, leaving her a squib. Till then the magic my family inherited from Slytherin is dormant and noone knows how to unlock it and hardly anyone in my family ever tried but from what I have learned only the current heir of Slytherin can unlock that power, though how I do not know.

I must ask you not to disclose the information I just gave as it would place my family in even greater danger than it already is since everyone suspects us to be the heirs of Gryffindor... if that rumour were to be confirmed and it go out that we are also the heirs of Slytherin..."

Without thinking about it Harry promised Henry not to tell anyone about what he had just been told but asked why Henry had told him about it. With an uncertain shrug Henry answered:

"I trust you. You were able to enter the wards without needing my consent and that has never happened before... also I have the feeling that it will not be me who will tell James of his ancestry..."

For a short while they sat in silence, both of them lost in thought. With a start Harry realised what Henrys revelation meant for him: he had not gained the ability to understand and speak with snakes from Voldemort! No, it was far worse, he WAS the true heir of Slytherin. He almost laughed at that thought, Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived-And-Defeated-You-Know-Who was the true heir of not only Gryffindor but also Slytherin... though it did explain why he was so powerful and why Voldemort went first after his family instead of Nevilles. Of course he would believe the heir of both Gryffindor and Slytherin a greater thread than anyone else, even if he didn't know of him being the heir of Slytherin.

"Come, Lucretias family will arrive shortly and I have yet to change my attire."

Henry interrupted the silence and stood up, seeing Harrys puzzled and slightly panicked expression he chuckled and continued:

"Wear something like yesterday and you will fit right in, I am sure they will not be able to tell that you are not one of them after only a few minutes if you are as mischievous and temperamental as James told us!"

With a wink he left the room, leaving Harry to wonder how he could be related to that family. Frowning Harry stood up and walked over to his wardrobe, Henry had said that he should wear something similar to what he had worn the day before so what could he wear? He didn't want to wear once again black and emerald green but the other shirts he had brought with him were either to tame or very noticeable. Hesitantly he picked up his two favourite shirts – blouses: one was a deep blue with silver treads woven through, it had wide sleeves but was otherwise form-fitting. The second, which he preferred to the blue was a deep bronze-gold, the colour of Gryffindor. Once again the shirt was bottomless and was laced up with a crimson-gold string of silk. Like the day before he was wearing the black slacks.

As he walked over to the mirror Harry wondered when he had become so vain, he was nearly as bad as Gilderoy Lockhard! But - a small voice in his head scolded him – Lockhard wasn't as good looking as you are. Yes, he remembered that he had had that particular argument several times with his friends, every time Ron had seen him near a mirror he had started to make gagging noises and Ginny and Hermione had come to his defence. Yet privately he had to agree with Ron, he was looking more often into a mirror in their seventh year than he had in the six before combined. He would be caught dead before he admitted that to anyone else but the reason for his new obsession with mirrors were his eyes. Or rather his mothers eyes. Since Hermione had found the spell-potion combination to correct his eyes and he was no-longer forced to wear glasses there was nothing that his eyes. From the moment he had re-entered the wizarding world with eleven everyone had remarked that he looked like his father - but had his mothers eyes. The older he grew the more of his mothers and grandparents features came through, especially after he had grown his hair out but what remained were his mothers eyes. He had his fathers cloak, map and even his skill in flying, he had his knack to get in trouble even if for different reasons and as a child he had looked exactly like his father – but the only thing he had of his mothers were his eyes.

Absentmindedly Harry was brushing his long hair, deciding to wear it for once open, giving him a medieval look with the loose fitting shirt and the low slacks. He just needed an earring or something else like that and he would look like a pirate – oh, not to forget a floret or sword.

When Harry entered the living room he was just in time to see the rest of his family arrive through the fireplace. As he had walked through the door James and one of the newly arrived men had looked over to him, James slightly recoiling at the almost feral grin that spread over his professors face while the older wizard seized Harry up and down with his eyes. Only when all new arrivals had freed themselves from the soothe did Lucretia introduce them to Harry.


	16. Imogene

**Back to the future 16**

Marcello VIII was looking up from James as he felt someone enter the room; his sister had told them that a friend of herself and Henry would be staying with them over the holidays and that that guest was also one of James teachers at Hogwarts. He was shocked by what he saw, Lucretia had told them that James DADA professor was young but the man that had just entered the room was barely an adult at least from the number of years he had lived. Looking at the young man he understood what his sister had whispered to him when he had stepped out of the floo-network: this Harry Andrews had the aura of a Borgia, that aura of silent confidence and barely concealed danger yet no Borgia ever suppressed their power like this man was doing.

Borgias were proud, not like the Malfoys or Blacks, they did not need to point at every occasion at their pureblood status, no the Borgias were also proud to be known in the muggle world. In both worlds the name Borgia invoked thoughts of power, of royalty, they were respected where they went, even though they had in recent history – the last centuries – withdrawn from active politics, they were still drawing the strings in the background, what a Borgia wanted he got no matter what it was. His sister had wanted Henry Potter and even though he had seemed to be interested in an other girl she had gotten him after only a few weeks of constant wooing.

Yet he could sense none of this in the young man who was by now grinning at James, yes, he was confident, powerful and his mere presence would demand respect from someone else than a Borgia he even seemed to be determined...but he lacked the ruthlessness that was often associated with their name.

As Lucretia introduced them, he had carefully arranged that he was the last to be introduced to the young man, he had to hold back a gaps at what he felt from the other as he grasped his hand. This young man possessed a darkness that was unrivalled – as was the light that resided inside him – but most of all he was definitely a Borgia, there was no doubt in his mind. With a small discrete motion of his hand Marcello directed his family to avoid the area around himself and Harry, for while he saw no immediate threat from the younger man he knew that he was dangerous, very dangerous. As soon as he was sure that their conversation would not be overheard he spoke to Harry, his voice demanding but not enough to offend the other.

"You are a vessel of Darkness."

Harry had still been smiling when he had been introduced to Marcello, not the mischievous smile he had earlier directed at James but a polite smile that did neither offend nor appeared overly friendly. But when Marcello had motioned to his family to avoid them his smile had for seconds turned icy, when his grandmothers brother finally spoke his face was lit up by a smile that send chills down the other mans spine.

"Some may call what I am a vessel but that is not what I am: I am the Guardian of the only source in the entire universe that is completely fair, that makes no differences and does not judge. So please do not call me a vessel, if you must call me Guardian, Lord who Awakens!"

With a stiff nod Marcello accepted the younger mans threat over using the correct title while addressing him, he would have to warn his father, who was still the Patriarch of the Borgia even though he, Marcello VIII seemed at times as the Head of the family because of his special "gift". While he could not tell the intentions of others he could assess their overall power and could tell if the posed a threat to himself and his family – yet never before had he been able to sense so much of an other person besides his family than with Harry Andrews.

It might have been because of their connection to that common... force. He himself was one of the few Lords of Awakening who had survived the hunting of their kind and if he was right in his guess than Andrews was the vessel of his ...master..., one of the four Guardians. No, he mused not four guardians, there is only one at a time and if he was correct in his fears and Henry Andrews was the Last, the most powerful... then the destruction the rising Dark Lord would bring would be terrible, more terrible even than what Grindevalt brought with him. The last time he was send was during the French Revolution when more than half of the French wizarding population was slaughtered. Once there had been a time when all four had send their guardians to earth but after the destruction they had brought with them it had been decided that only one guardian would live at a time. True, he would be able to call the other three but as only the purest of souls was chosen to become a vessel... He would have to talk to his father – and sister – about it as soon as possible.

Harry was stumped when he touched Marcellos hand, his great uncle was a Necromancer! The lessons about Necromancers in his sixth year had been the only interesting lessons from Binns he could remember. Many times during wizarding history Necromancers had been hunted, the Dementors had been created in an attempt to completely wipe out those who were able to awaken the dead, for as long as they had their soul when they were killed they could be reanimated by an other Necromancer. The Killing-Curse had been invented for the same reason: it ripped the soul of the victim apart, making it impossible for a Necromancer to receive a resonance when they called. Unfortunately – or fortunately – the Dementors were not as easily controlled as their creators had imagined and the Killing-Curse was viewed as to dark and dangerous to be legal. The talent for Necromancy was inherited at the same way as the ability to control and do magic: you could either come from a whole line of Necromancers or you could be the first, there were also the equivalents to squibs and different strengths for that art. Yet even the most powerful of the Necromancers was not able to revive those who had accepted their death while dying. Necromancy was one of the Shadow Arts, it was only able to be used on those who were neither unwilling to die and became ghosts nor on those who accepted their death while their life and soul fled their body; only those who did not realise that they died or were just surprised by their death could be revived. Of course they would not be who they were before and their time would be limited to a few hours up to a few days, just enough to straighten out their affairs and say goodbye.

He knew that neither his parents nor Cedirc or Sirius would have been able to be brought back by a Necromancer no matter how powerful: they had all accepted their death while dying. Then there was also the wrong believe that Necromancers created Zombies, corpses whom they revived to do their bidding. The truth was far from it: Zombies were created by a simple animation spell, something every N.E.W.T.S. student could do. Necromancers, at least most of them, there were always those who had no morals, had to much respect for death and the dead to use them in such ways.

His encounter with his great uncle Marcello had only been able to shortly draw his thoughts away from the letter he had received that morning, the letter he so desperately wanted to answer positively. Yet no matter how much he wished to be able to accept her proposal he knew that her parents would never accept him once they learned of his incomplete knowledge of his ancestry – he could tell them that his great-grandmother was a muggle but even if he had been sure about it it would do nothing to endear him to them. But as it was he knew nothing but the name of his maternal great-grandmother or in this time his grandmother. From everything he had heard about his mothers family from aunt Petunia he strongly suspected that they were not as muggle as they pretended to be: not only the man that was his grandfather and had changed his name after his master had fallen but also his grandmothers side.

It had been around his seventeenth birthday that he had learned who his grandfather really was, that his grandfather was as much a murderer as Lucius Malfoy even when he seemed to still have shreds of a conscious as his rescue of Henry Potter proved. Still the thought that he was related to a mass-murderer made him nauseous every time he thought of it and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. Yes, he had killed Voldemort and had wanted to kill several of his Death Eaters but he had not enjoyed the killing and to some degree still regretted it and hated himself for it even though he knew that he had been the only one able to kill the monster Tom Riddle had become.

Uncle Albus had often told him stories of the time when Grindewalt was the Dark Lord, not knowing what close connection Harry had to Grindewalts right hand. In some aspects Grindewalt had been even more insane than Voldemort, in others was he tame compared to the next Dark Lord. While Voldemort was content with just trying to rule Britain and rid it of Muggles and Muggle-born Grindewalt wanted World Domination and was well on his way achieving it by using the Muggles. While the Nazis tried to gain World Domination in the Muggle World Grindewalt managed to set them up many times and hunt also witches and wizards that stood in his way. Therefor it took till 1940 till the Wizarding World realised that the many deaths were not the result of a new era of Witch-hunting by the muggles but a carefully planned ploy by one of their own to eliminate all of his enemies. By the time he announced his rule he was already in control of most of Wizarding-Europe and most of those who opposed him were dead. One evening during the holidays after Harrys sixth year Uncle Albus had confide in him about his brother Aberfort who was thought crazy by most of the Wizarding-World. Aberfort had been married with four children and twenty-one grandchildren. It had been the wedding of one of his grandchildren when they had been attacked by a large group of muggles, led by a young man who called himself Grindewalt. All but Aberfort were killed in the ensuing battle and professor Dumbledores brother had never recovered from the loss of his extensive family. For years he had tried to find a Necromancer who could bring his family back and as he didn't succeed he started to enchant everything around him, not caring if living or not.

When Voldemort started his campaign against Muggles and Muggle-born he therefor found many wizards and witches who shared his ideas, fuelled by the idea that someone could repeat what Grindewalt had done.

It was bitter-sweet for Harry to watch his family so carefree, just as this whole trip to the past was bitter-sweet, even more so now that he had received to proposal from Bellatrix parents. His rational side told him not to get to attached to anyone during this stay but his emotional side wanted nothing more than spend as much time as possible with his family, a family he had never met before and would most likely never see again after he had travelled back to the future.

His great-grandfather was finally the one who registered how quiet the guest of his daughter was. As his oldest son and his daughter he had also noticed how much like a Borgia Henry Andrews moved and spoke but he dared not to search for an explanation for it so instead he inquired what occupied the mind of the younger man not really expecting his question to be answered.

"I'm not sure if your daughter told you, sir, but during the first week of classes I accidental wore my robes of declaration...

This morning I received a proposal I would love to accept as I have fallen in love with that particular girl yet I can not accept the proposal her parents made for her."

By now Henry Potter who sat next to his father in law had noticed their conversation and had heard what Harry had said last.

"Still thinking it would be dishonourably to accept the proposal of one of your students?"

The frown he wore made clear that Harry better not answer with yes yet as he heard Harrys answer his frown turned into a full blown scowl.

"No, I have thought about what you told me this morning and have to agree with you... Her parents require that I prove that I am a Pureblood – and I am unable to do so."

not waiting to be further prompted by his grandfather and great-grandfather he continued

"For all I know my mother was a muggle but from all the secrecy that surrounds her mother I highly doubt it: I know nothing of my maternal grandparents except the name of my grandmother and she was not the least astounded when she found out that I was magical even though she was not aware who my father really was leading me to the conclusion that she was either a squib or had also bound her magic..."

Dread filled Marcellos heart as he heard the words of his daughters guest, could it really be? After all those years? Had he finally found a race of his beloved Imogene? With a faintly trembling voice he asked Henry Andrews to tell him the name of his grandmother and to describe her to him.


	17. Thoughts and Conversations

**Back to the future: 17**

It was almost time to return to Hogwarts, and he had decided to spend the day in Diagon Alley, allowing Henry and Lucretia to spend the day alone with their son – and to copy the photos he had duplicated a few days ago. When he had come to this time-period or even when he had boarded the train to go home with James for the holidays could he not have imagined what revelations the holidays would bring for him.

When his great grandfather Marcello had asked him to describe his (great-) grandmother to him he had thought nothing of it but when the older man had grown paler and paler the more he described what little he knew of the woman he had wondered to what the questions may lead. That night he had made a trip to the home of Reginald and Rosalie's home, copying any photos he had been able to find of Rosalie and her mother Imogene and send them to with one of the Potters owls to Marcello. Not only he himself had been surprised when Marcello had returned that evening, carrying with him a robe, a set of keys and a signet-ring.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he did not register whom he was greeting as he walked through Diagon Alley, stopping briefly at some shops only to continue as restless as before. Finally he stopped at Diagon Alley branch of Honeydukes to restock his supply of Blood-drops and Mint-Leaves as well as Chocolate and some other sweets that caught his fancy.

Wandering over to the Sugar-Quills – there was nothing better than to use those for correcting all those boring essays – he was stopped by a young girl, a girl he had hoped he would not encounter till classes started again.

"Miss Black" he said turning around to face her, "I trust you have enjoyable holidays? Thank you very much for the book and the letter."

For a moment he hesitated before continuing, praying that he was not making the greatest mistake of his life.

"Are you with your parents here?"

Confused Bellatrix shook her head but answered none the less as she was raised to respect her elders – at least if they were pureblood and from older or more influential families.

"No, professor, I am alone, I just flood here from my Uncles house."

For a moment it seemed as if she wanted to say more but after mere seconds the impression had passed and Harry found himself asking himself silently if he had lost the little bit of rational though he had had when he came to the past as he invited Bellatrix to Fortesque.

They still sat in silence as Mr Fortesque brought them their ice-cream and hot chocolate and Harry absentmindedly began to suck on one of his newly bought Blood-Drops, completely forgetting his ice-cream that was luckily un-melting. He knew that the next minutes could very well change his life forever and for the first time in many years he wondered if the hat shouldn't have placed him in Huffelpuff. Loyalty was after all something he had enough to spare but that what made the hat chose Gryffindor was what he was at that moment desperately searching for: bravery. Where was it, that foolish bravery that let the typical Gryffindor charge ahead, killing first and asking questions later – ok maybe that was a bad example even though it fit many Gryffindors – acting first and thinking about the consequences later was more fitting for himself at the moment. When had he lost that attribute? He had certainly possessed it at some point.

His gaze flickered over to Bellatrix and with a pang of pain and guilt he remembered, no realised when he had shed that particular Gryffindor-behaviour: at the end of his fifth year when his foolishness had made it possible for Bellatrix to kill his beloved godfather Sirius.

Bellatrix had killed Sirius, Bellatrix had been one of those who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity... Without a doubt Harry knew that for once he should follow his heart even though his memories tried to tell him not to do it.

For a fleeting moment she had seen pain flickering through the impressive eyes of her favourite professor as he looked at her. All the time she had known him, those short four months, his eyes had been guarded, never giving any impression of what he was thinking or feeling – except when he had just then looked at her. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't immediately react to the question her professor had asked her and only when he was about to repeat it she realised that he had indeed asked her what she was thinking of him, both as a professor and a man.

She could not believe that he had asked her THAT but a look at his face told her that she had indeed heard right and she blushed deep red. How should she answer that question? The first part was easy enough, she thought that he was one of the best professors she had ever had, including her private tutors... But how could he expect her to tell him what she thought of him as a man? Yes, like most of the girls in Slytherin and undoubtedly the rest of Hogwarts she had a crush on her professor. Who wouldn't she thought still blushing, he had incredible green eyes, long hair that she just wanted to run her fingers through – not that she would ever admit it – a wonderful voice and his grin... it didn't help that he had helped her to stay in contact with her older sister.

Harry could not believe that he had had the courage to really ask her what she thought of him and his wording had made the matters only worse but he had not been able to think of any other way to force her to answer him exactly what he wanted – no needed to hear. He had to strain to hear her answer and was glad that he had erected a privacy charm as soon as they had sat down.

"You are a great professor! Professor Darrington was to old and to conservative to be of any use as a Defence teacher – luckily he retired last year... Everyone in Slytherin and some of the other houses are really scandalised by your disregard of Dark Wizards but since you are the head of a prominent pureblood family no-one would ever say anything..."

Bellatrix trailed of, not wanting to answer the second part of his question and the last words she had spoken only added to her dread. She knew that her parents and her uncle and aunt had talked about his declaration, Narcissa had written home about it and she knew that she had reached a suitable age to have a proposal written for her. Only when her professor repeated the second part of his question did she finally answer, mortified she was not able to look at him much less meet his searching eyes.

"I like you, I mean who doesn't? You are incredible looking..."

Harry had to suppress a silly grin – as well as a blush on his own – as he heard her. Yes, he was incredible... dumb when it came to girls and their behaviour towards him but he had to be more than blind, deaf and stupid not to notice that Bellatrix Black had a huge crush on him – but would it be enough? Without realising what he was doing he asked his next question to the shell-shocked third year:

„Tell me Miss Black, whom would you rather marry: Lucius Malfoy, Rudolphus Lestrange...or me?"

It took all his control not to let an overly pleased grin slip on his face as she immediately blurted out

"You!"

Only after she had spoken did she realise what question she had answered – and that it certainly was not a question a professor should be asking one of his students, one of his UNDERAGED students. With a nervous glance she finally asked a question of her own:

"Professor, why are you asking me all this?"

She could have slapped herself for not thinking sooner to ask him this... before answering his first question, at least the second part. All colour was draining her face as he answered her, his voice devoid of all emotion.

"On your fourteenth birthday I received a proposal from your parents... you know what that means?"

She wished for nothing more than a whole to swallow her. Could that encounter become any worse? First she had to tell her favourite professor on whom she had a huge crush what she was thinking of him and now he informed her that her parents had send a proposal for her to him. She knew what information the formal part of such a proposal required, how was she ever to be able to look at her again when he knew such intimate information about her? How could her parents have done that to her. She should have expected it she thought bitterly – after all they have disowned Andromeda just for marrying a muggle, of course they would jump at the chance to marry me off to a rich young pureblood who was already the head of his family. The quiet voice of her professor brought her out of her thoughts, reminding that she was not alone but in public and that she was sitting on one desk with her professor.

"Would you want me to accept the proposal?"

What he said was not what she had been expecting, a sincere apology for thinking her to young, an outright refusal of even considering her or something like that but not a question if she wanted him to accept. No, certainly not that.

He was packing the last of the things he had brought with him to the Potters, he would leave earlier than James, having received an owl from the good old headmaster that there was supposed to be a conference two days before classes started again, a meeting he had to attend.

Of course he would apparate directly into his quarters instead of using the floo-network to Hogsmead and walking up to Hogwarts or worse yet directly into Dumbledores office and have the inquisition meeting him there.

So many things had turned out different than he had expected and it scared him almost as much as Voldemort had scared him. Yet even though so many things had happened during this short holidays he had enjoyed them – not as much as the one Christmas with Sirius but it came a close second. The Christmas with Sirius... it had certainly been one of the darkest holidays he had ever had, even those in his sixth and seventh year did not come close to it, they had been depressing, especially that in sixth year but not dark like the one with Sirius.

It had been after that Christmas, to be exact Christmas of his sixth year, that he had understood the difference between Dark and Evil. The Christmas with Sirius had been dark, starting with the attack on Mr Weasley, the days in the gloomy house that just screamed darkness even though Sirius did everything to liven it up... But than there had been Sirius who was so happy and cheerful... Looking back he had to wonder if Sirius had perhaps known that that would be their only Christmas together, that it would be the last Christmas he would ever be able to celebrate...

That Christmas had certainly been dark, darker than any Christmas he had ever experienced, even the ones he had lived through at the Dursleys had been just depressing but not dark and the two after Sirius death had been sad and depressing no matter how cheerful everyone around him was. He knew what darkness was, he himself would say that he was dark, not evil but dark even though Uncle Nicki said that he was grey – or silver – he would say that he was dark or more precise light but enveloped by darkness. For crying out loud he was a Shadow Phoenix, a creature whose element was, though a creature of the light, the shadows. He felt at home in the darkness but could not even stand the thought of doing something evil. Sirius had been the same, he had grown up in a mostly evil family but had chosen the light. While Sirius always searched for light, for cheerfulness after his stay in Azkaban and even before being raised by such a family he himself sought the comfort of darkness, of the shadows.

When he had been a child his only safe place had been his cupboard under the stairs. It had been the only place where the Dursleys couldn't reach him, the never stepped inside, it had been his sanctuary – and it had often been clouded in shadows as it took most of the time many weeks before the Dursleys renewed the light-bulb. At Hogwarts the only time he had been left alone – at least most of the time - had been when he had the curtains of his bed drawn.

Then there was also what Voldemort had said to him during his first year: There is no light or dark magic, only power and those to weak to seek it. He could not agree with the second part but the first... he knew that there was no light and dark magic, there was neutral and evil magic – and the three Unforgivables were NOT evil, they were dark, yes, but not evil. Evil were only a selected few curses but not a whole branch of magic. Some said Necromancers were inherently evil – but they were only dark, dark because their art involved the dead but did that make them evil? Wasn't death something neutral, something completely fair?

By no means did he use so called "dark magic" magic on a regular basis, he couldn't even perform some of those curses and charms or rituals for all the power he had. Most of them were based on emotions, emotions like hate and the wish, the overpowering urge to hurt, to control, to erase the very being of an other person. He knew that he would teach his students the three Unvorgivables – even though he had to find someone else to cast them. Some of his students would use dark and even evil magic in the future on a regular basis but he had to teach them about it – and how to counter it, Especially how to counter it. That was also one reason why he didn't believe in "dark magic" but only in neutral and evil magic: that what he called evil had no way to be countered, everything done by evil magic was permanent, everything done by neutral magic could be countered – even the killing curse no matter how impossible it seemed.

It had not been the prophecy that had saved him that Halloween, it had been to never ending love of his mother – and the sincerity of Voldemort when he had asked her to step aside. He had not wanted to kill his mother, she would have been able to live if she had given him up – that was what made them different than the other parents who had offered their life for their children, the would have died nevertheless while his mother could have lived. So to speak his mother had made a bargain with death: her life for his. Voldemort did not know that when he killed her to get to him, for years afterwards no-one had known it but had he just stunned her he, Harry Potter would have died that Halloween and no prophecy could have saved him. Some might argue that it was because of the prophecy that Voldemort had no intention to kill his mother but he didn't agree.

With regret he looked around the room, he had enjoyed his stay with his grandparents and father and some part of him wished to stay in that cosy guest room but a knock from Henry reminded him that he had to leave and return to Hogwarts for the rest of his first year of teaching.


	18. Thanatos

**Back to the future: 18**

He was late, he was late even though he just had had to apparate to his quarters and walk to the staff-lounge. Charles and Minerva smiled at him as he took his seat between them while most of the other teachers just nodded in greeting – Dumbledore frowned slightly but said nothing. Most of the meeting was spend going over important happenings during the last term and what changes had to be made in the next. The older students were discussed, comparing their grates from earlier years to those they had managed that year – all themes to which Harry could contribute only very little.

Just as he decided that there was nothing he had to listen to did the others turn to one of last points of the meeting: the first years. Pomona Sprout, who had started teaching only a few years before Harry was the first who spoke of her students, which had been homesick, which she believed were mistreated or neglected at home, whom she though could achieved better marks if they applied themselves more... each of them had to comment each student, giving their opinion on their class-work. By the time they reached Gryffindor – Gryffindor and Slytherin were the last – Harry wondered how the others survived such a meeting twice a year.

As he commented Peter Pettigrew's work in his class Harry wondered how he could be so indifferent to the boy who had betrayed his parents and Sirius. When he had come to the past he had feared that he would hate the boy, that he would barely be able to stop himself from killing him – and yet he felt nothing when he looked at the boy. No, that was not true, he felt pity. Pity that the boy before him could betray his friend, throw his life away by following a monster. When he had watched how Peter had cut his own hand of to resurrect Voldemort he had been disgusted but even at that image he now felt only pity. Pity that someone could sink so low as to kill a defenceless child – it didn't matter that Cedric was already seventeen – and to follow someone he clearly hated... and feared, feared more than anything else.

Minervas voice brought him back to the meeting:

"I can not help but wonder why Mr Potter is so ...quiet... When his father was that age he had already pranked most of the school at least once. The boy is to much like his father from what I have seen so far for me to believe that he will not follow in his footsteps!"

A wide grin spread over Harry's face as he heard this, Minerva would not have to wait much longer and she would wish that she had never questioned the peace she had had during the last term. Filius, who sat across from him saw his maniacal grin and questioned him about it.

"Oh, I doubt that we will have much longer peace from James! Both Potter men and nearly every Borgia was plotting during the holidays and James was constantly sending owls to Mr Black and also Mr Lupin...No, as soon as they come back we can expect for the peace to end, Hogwarts will not be the same when they will leave in six years.

By the way Charles expect James to question your Christmas present, he loved the notes you wrote!"

Charles had paled when he had started – as had most of the other teachers who had known Henry Potter at school, that is all but Dumbledore who was smiling slightly – but when he mentioned that James had read the notes he had written to the potions his face turned and interesting shade of red.

"You read them to him"

Harry's grin grew wider, did he just hear Charles voice tremble?

"No, he snatched the pouch from me and read them to his parents...Henry liked them but Lucretia was everything but amused though I believe that her brothers would have also loved them..."

An impish smile on his face Harry trailed of and turned to Minerva:

"He didn't dare to read your note after Lucretia had scolded him... and are you one of them is that why you send me _that_?"

Before she had the chance to answer him he continued his voice loosing its child-like glee,

"Minerva, how is Mr. Lupin coping? I know that his...condition his still a secret from his dorm-mates but still, how is he coping?"

Hearing his question the other teachers turned to Minerva and Portia – Poppy – Pomphrey to hear their answers. It was Poppy who spoke first:

"His physical condition is as it is to be expected: tow weeks around the full moon he is easily tired, the days directly surrounding it are the hardest for him, he is easily angered but controls himself very well. Of course the transformations hard and painful especially for one so young..."

For a moment she was silent because her voice grew harder and Harry realised immediately that she thought that one of her patients were mistreated – he had heard _that_ voice used often enough concerning himself.

"You as an expert in Defence should know that he is only dangerous during his transformation as long as his blood or other bodily fluids do not mingle with that of others!..."

Before she could carry on Harry interrupted her:

"I know that and I have no problem with what he is, it is an illness and nothing more, I was merely asking how he was coping: He is still young and it is the first time he is out of the protection of his parents, that alone is hard enough ad to that his illness..."

"Well, his grades are good, even though he is missing several classes each month and he has formed a rather close friendship with his dorm-mates so I must say that everything went better than I would have hoped."

Minervas statement was clearly said in the intention to stop a further debate as not all teachers had agreed with the headmaster when he had invited a werewolf to school claiming that it was a danger to everyone. Sensing Minervas need to change the subject Charles asked her to continue with the rest of her students so that they could finally discuss his Slytherins. As Minerva had started with the boys the girls were yet to be discussed and Harry noted with a strong surge of pride that his mother was among the best students if without any close friends... much like Hermione would have been. Ginevra Prewett was an other first year Gryffindor... Ron and Ginny's aunt, Ginny's names sake, Mrs Weasley's niece killed with her parents and younger brother by Voldemort during his first rise. He did not know when exactly they would be killed, he had never dared to ask Mrs Weasley only that all three Prewett siblings – Molly and her two brothers – had been in the Order of the Phoenix and that Mrs Weasley was the last surviving Prewett when Voldemort had come after himself and his parents. Would Ginevra finish Hogwarts? Would she graduate? – or would she be killed before she had even the chance to be considered of age?

A soft cough from the headmaster brought Harry out of his depressing thoughts just in time to hear Charles start with the male first year Slytherins. None of them interested him more than in passing – except of course Severus Snape. Worried he heard that while Severus – he couldn't call this sweet innocent boy Snape as he was nothing like his older self – didn't perform to his best abilities in any class besides potions and DADA. Was that the reason why it was always rumoured that Snape had wanted the DADA job? Was it because it was one of his two only good subjects? That couldn't be the reason, could it? After all Severus was only eleven...

When Charles was about to start with the next student Harry interrupted him, his voice soft but determinant:

"What do you think of Mr Snapes parents? Has any of you seen how they look at their son? They looked at him as if he was a peace of filth as if he was a... freak..."

The last word was whispered and Harry inwardly cringed. The Snapes had looked at their son the same way the Dursleys had always looked at him and everything screamed in him to rescue the small boy – but what could he do? He doubted that he would be able to find any evidence for abuse or even neglect no matter how hard he would try after all the Snapes were a prominent Pureblood family. Not as prominent as the Potters, Andrews, Malfoys or even the Weasleys and certainly not as rich as the first three but they had the support of the rich dark families. He would be dead before he could do anything.

As expected none of the other teachers really believed him, sure, Severus was quiet but than so were other children, he was shy but that also didn't speak of neglect. All he had to back of his theory were the looks his parents had given him and he knew it. For the rest of the discussion of the first years he stayed silent except giving his observations from his classes. Finally the headmaster brought fourth the last point of the meeting: who would stay at Hogwarts during the summer-holidays. As Harry had expected and feared the headmaster turned to him, asking him if he could stay for the first half of the summer.

"No, headmaster, I have made already arrangements with family to visit and I have to look over some estates as well... but I could be back August first that way I could spend my birthday with my family and come here the next day."

There was no way he would spend his birthday at Hogwarts. He was under no illusion that the castle had not recognised him as both Gryffindors and Slytherins heir – why else was he able to apparate within the wards when it was impossible? Or change his chambers? His last school-year had been interesting, staircases had changed their path so that he could reach his destination easier, the ghosts had greeted him when no-one else was around, snake-carvings had saluted him... not to forget that he didn't seem to require passwords anylonger.

So what would happen when he spend his birthday at the school, for the first time knowing that he was not only the heir of one but of two of the founders? Some said that Hogwarts was semi-sentient he knew better: Hogwarts was completely sentient. The reason why the Marauders were able to create their map was because Hogwarts had sensed the need of its heir to know everything about it. Equally Voldemort did not refrain from attacking Hogwarts during his first reign because he feared the headmaster but because Hogwarts would not allow her heir to be harmed. Only if the headmaster had allowed Voldemort to enter the castle could he have overtaken it. That was also the reason why all those teachers had been able to attack Harry: the headmaster had allowed them through the wards and onto the grounds. Of course he had had no idea what they wanted to do or that they were possessed but only his consent had made it impossible for Hogwarts to guard him. He didn't blame the headmaster, he had had no way of knowing that it was Barty Crouch jun. and not MadEye Moody, the only one who could have guessed something was he himself, he had seen him on the map but had stayed silent ... and as he didn't have any reason to know that there even was a second Barty Crouch no one was at fault. The same with Quirrel: he had stayed silent about the pains in his scar...

No, there really was no way that he would spend his birthday at the castle especially not when he had the chance to spend it with his grandparents and other family. After a few attempts from the headmaster to get him to stay for the whole holidays or at least the first part he had to agree that Harry would not be swayed on his decision to arrive on August first and not one day earlier.

Both Minerva and Charles were a bit disappointed when he retired to his rooms as soon as the meeting had ended claiming that he was tired – truth was that he had just no patience to cope with their questions that would undoubtedly come as soon as they were alone.

* * *

When Albus Dumbledore entered his office a few minutes after the meeting had ended he was pleasantly surprised when a shadow materialised next to Fawkes perch only to form seconds later the majestic form of Nyx. He rather liked the Shadow Phoenix of his DADA teacher even though he didn't trust the young man – at least not completely. With wonder he watched as the two avian's started immediately o sing, their songs both calming and invigorating. Wizards and witches could count them lucky to hear one Phoenix sing but two was truly extraordinary and ...beautiful. Often he wished to be able to understand what his familiar was saying – or rather trilling – but alas it was not to be.

As soon as Harry got back to his quarters he changed. He needed some answers and Horus and Fawkes were the only ones able to give them to him. While he wouldn't have to deal with the headmaster when he would seek out Horus Uncle Nicki could be equally nosy and Fawkes was...he would dare to say that Fawkes was like a father to him at least to Nyx. He loved to travel through the shadows especially while he was in the form of Nyx or rather while he _was_ Nyx, it felt so liberating, so free.

Fawkes was not in the least astonished when he materialised next to him but greeted him warmly but for once did he not want to beat around the bush but learn exactly why.

_"Fawkes, why am I really here? I mean all uncle Albus could tell me was that he remembered me from the past and neither you nor Horus have been very forthcoming with answers! I have to know why I am here before I change something important. Please tell me why I am here, Fawkes."_

_The moments Fawkes took till he answered seemed endless to Harry but when he was finally answered it was certainly not what he had expected:_

"_You are here because of Thanatus, child – at least that was the reason why you were send back the first time. The day you came here a child was born that would have become Thanatus, a Thanatus that would have followed Voldemort when he sought him out. He would have died the day you are to be conceived leaving Thanatus free to find a new host but by then he would have called his brothers forth..._

_Your presence in this time prevented all this, you **are** Thanatus and when you leave Thanatus will **become** you._

_That would have been enough but during your first stay here you changed the course of time without managing to prevent that Ares was raised from the depths of time. You were able to contain him... but you died._

_To prevent your death you came back the second time yet that time you made another grave mistake resulting in many deaths and tortures – and a broken heart for yourself._

_Neither Horus nor myself are able to help you other then give you advice from time to time and bring you home to your own time before you are conceived – everything else is up to you. I can not tell you what to do, it is for you to decide and live with the consequences._

_Remember, child, Thanatus is not evil – at least not more evil than you are. As long as you stay true to the light Thanatus will be neutral. Thanatus is just as Hypnos and Nyx a part of you, a part you have to accept. You are his guardian, you are him. All three have chosen you because of the purity of your soul, a purity not even Voldemort was able to taint. Accept who you are and live."_

It seemed as if hours had passed since Nyx had materialised in his office and had started singing to Fawkes. Never before, not even when Fawkes and Horus were together in a room had he seen something like what he had just witnessed. He would give nearly everything to know what Fawkes had told the other Phoenix for that was what it looked like. He was accustomed enough with the stance of those magnificent birds to know or at least guess what it meant and at the moment it looked as if Nyx had just heard something that needed a time to come to terms with. For the first time since he had met Fawkes he felt like an intruder in his familiars world. What was it that he had just witnessed, he did not know but he felt that something of great importance had just transpired between the Fire and the Shadow Phoenix.


	19. Night and his sons

**Back to the future: 19**

A tall figure stood at the gates of Hogwarts, a silver cloak draped over its shoulders. Long black hair was billowing around him, for the figure was indeed male, controlled by the wind that lifted the snow from the ground. Everyone who looked at that time out of one of the many windows of the castle would have been awed by the presence the man executed by just calmly standing there. Among those who were indeed positioned in the warmth of the castle, watching this solitary man from high up was the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not even half a year had passed since he had first met the charismatic young man that was standing far below him at the gates of the castle. When he had first laid his eyes on the young man he had believed to see just an other young curious though powerful wizard... but now... now he wondered who or what Henry Andrews really was. Most of the other professors and most of the students save a selected few adored the young man.

Nothing about the young man seemed certain, nothing seemed to follow pre-set paths it was as if this young man stood above all rules, above all laws may they be made by men or higher beings.

Even his dear friend and mentor Nicholas Flamel had taken immediately to the young man and had told him ever since that he was trust-worthy but did he dare to trust him? He knew that phoenixi bonded only with light wizards, only with those of pure hearts – and only with those who had faced battles which outcomes dictated the course of the world. What battle had Henry Andrews fought, what evil had he defeated that had threatened the whole world?

As much as he wished to be able to he could not deny that he was drawn to the young man, that he found in him so many qualities he wished for in a child, in a grandchild. He had never been married, always had there be an evil that had prevailed his search for a wife. Ever since his first love had died in an accident had he given up the hope to found a family of his own, looking only half-heartedly for someone he could spend the rest of his life with. Once, when he himself had been young he had wished for children, at least two sons and two daughters and grandchildren he could spoil when he grew old. When it became apparent to him with sixty that he would have never a family on his own he applied for the job as a transfiguration professor here at Hogwarts and was accepted. Over the years he had learned to see the students as substitute-children yet none of the students he had taught had tugged in such a way on his heart as Henry Andrews did.

Again he asked himself what it was that entranced him about the young man, he certainly didn't trust the young professor. A smile flickered over his face as the thought of the indignation he had felt as the young man told him that he was not twenty-five as he had claimed in his application but merely eighteen... He could not say that he was truly angered by the fact that the boy, no, young man had lied about his age – it was more the fact that he had been bested by a mere child that irked him. There were other facts that didn't raise his anger even though he certainly disapproved of them highly – like trying to use a memory charm on him. He could not understand why he did not punish the man for it like he would have done with everyone else. Was it the true regret he had seen in his eyes, the tears that had leaked out of his eyes or the heart-wrenching pain he had felt from the young man when he had left his office that morning? Whatever it was, he could not help himself but view the young professor as a grandchild even though he didn't trust him...yet.

* * *

Tomorrow the students would return... tomorrow his fate would be decided if all went as planned. After he had returned from his chat with Fawkes he had fire-called Gawain, hoping for the guidance Fawkes had denied him. Yet Gawain had also be unable to help him, all the old wand-maker could do was assure him that he would make the right choice if he would be able to stand behind it with all his being. Most of the night he had spend pondering the words of his friend, asking himself time over time if he was about to make the right choice, if he dare to follow the urge to take the next step. Finally in the morning he had fire-called Lucretia and asked her for the floo-address of her oldest brother whom he called as soon as he had closed the connection to Lucretia.

He knew that it would take at least an other half an hour before Marcello would apparate to Hogsmead and walk up to the castle, an other half an hour he would be spending standing in the snow, wind blowing around him not caring about the coldness. Once again his thoughts returned to Fawkes words – or rather trills. He had to accept Thanatos just as he had accepted Hypnos and later Nyx. It had been easy for him to accept Hypnos, his first animagus form. How could it not have been when it was something that connected him more to his father and Sirius? They had also been sixteen when they had first managed to transform, they had learned it to be able to help a friend – and he to be able to concentrate on something other than the death of someone who was as close as a father to him and as he thought at that time is own impending death. It had been Remus idea to name him Hypnos after the greek god of sleep based on one of his ... abilities...he had in that form. The silver, winged jaguars – a smile flickered over his face as he realised that he hadn't even bothered to find out the name of his species -–were hunters, hunters that put their pray to sleep before they killed it. But contrary to the believe that they did it because it was easier to kill something that was not struggling had he learned that they did it not to die themselves. This special breed of jaguars were highly sensitive emphats who were able to feel the pain of everything living around them – at least animals and other beings – and too much pain could quite easily kill them.

Of course Remus, Uncle Albus and Uncle Nicki were the only ones he had told this, the three he trusted most in the world.

Even though he had changed into Hypnos only two months ago he felt that the animal wanted to come forth, that he was waiting just beneath the surface to be released. When uncle Albus had taught him to become an animagus he had told him that while the animal was dictated by their personality it would pronounce certain aspects and even change the personality to match it. He himself as an owl loved freedom – as did most animals but those air-born even more so – and wisdom and was loyal to his friends and those he considered his hatchlings. At first Harry had been embarrassed when he had noticed that the headmaster had glanced at him while saying the last one but with time he had come to depend on it. As all large cats, especially all panthers, Harry was a hunter who didn't stop once he had set his eyes on a pray but he didn't kill needlessly. He was playful and secretive, hiding as much as possible about himself and he would kill as well as die for those selected few who had his complete trust and loyalty. Even the magical abilities of Hypnos matched his personality – or at least his three mentors had assured him of that – he didn't have it in him to cause pain to anyone and he saw when others needed comfort. Of course that didn't mean that he was always able to give that comfort but uncle Albus had assured him that that would change over time.

Nyx was a miracle, one didn't just have more than one animagus forms even though he had to concede that Nyx was not a second animagus form but something much more complicated. He was Nyx not in the way he was Hypnos or even Thanatos but more like having all of his emotions, his magical powers wrapped up in the form of a Shadow Phoenix. While Nyx was him he was at the same time a completely different being, a being whose father was Fawkes. The day he had become Nyx, the day of the final battle he had died as Harry Potter, had been judged, found worthy and had been reborn as both Harry Potter and Nyx. Nyx, because he was the god of the Night and the night separated two days from each other: one day when he had been Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, hunted by Lord Voldemort and destined to either kill him or die at his hands and the next day Harry Potter, Conqueror-Of-Darkness, Shadow Phoenix. Of course he hadn't really died in the final battle but he had come close to it, his magical reserves nearly depleted, his right hand completely burned leaving hardly more than bones. Hadn't Fawkes fire-travelled with him and cried on his burned hand he would at the very least have lost his had. He did not know how he knew but he was sure that Fawkes had never allowed someone to fire-travel with him, that was something no phoenix allowed lightly. Furthermore when Fawkes had cried on his hand he had not only given him his tears – and more than was common as Madame Pomphrey had later told him – but also part of his magic creating Nyx.

The thoughts of Fawkes brought him back to Thanatos, the one ...form... he was not comfortable with, could not accept... And Thanatos was the only ...form... that was truly him, more so than Hypnos and Nyx. He had been born as Thanatos but when Voldemort had tried to kill him as a toddler his mothers sacrifice had buried his awareness of himself, of the second part of himself. It had been in the Department of Mysteries, in the Death Chamber that Thanatos had awakened. He had never talked with Uncle Albus about it but he was sure that not love was the power he had that the prophecy spoke of but death. Death was something Voldemort didn't have and could have never understood. He feared death above everything else while he dealt it constantly. He himself on the other hand saw those he cared for die – and pleaded for death to take him. He had the power to unleash death on humanity but other than Voldemort he would never do it.

Thanatos was like a second face – or a face he preferred not to show, it, he, was his darkness but also his light, he was neutral, he did not cause pain he just brought an end to one form of existence. Many people over the time had tried to study death, Luna's mother had been one of them. The reason why Luna was ... like she was... was because she had been present when her mother had tried a spell that would have breached the boundaries of death. The spell did actually work, taking the soul of Luna's mother to the realm of the dead and leaving Luna with the ability to sense the dead. The Vail through which Sirius had fallen was an other attempt to bereft death of its secret. Whoever had created that Vail had been a genius and unbelievable stupid. Remus had been right when he had held him back and prevented him to go after Sirius – at least partly – the Vail was a direct pathway to the realm of the dead. Harry was not sure what would happen if he would step through that Vail. He was a guardian, the guardian of death would that allow him to enter the realm of death and come back unscathed or would only Thanatos return and Harry Potter die? But wasn't he Thanatos at least till he died?

For a little over two yeas now had he been aware of Thanatos, of being Thanatos and yet he was still not able to fully understand this power he was? He had? As far as he knew only the other three guardians would be able to truly help him with this questions but than the other three were dormant till he awakened them – and as soon as he did that he would bring destruction to the whole world...

The sight of a tall form walking briskly towards him brought Harry out of his thoughts. When he had last – and for the first time – seen Marcello VIII a few days ago he had known that they were related through his fathers side but now he knew that they were also connected through his mothers side: his own great grandmother was the aunt of Marcello VIII and the younger sister of Marcello VII. It had been a shock for him, though not as great as expected when he had learned that his great grandmother Imogene Miller was in reality Imogene Borgia who had left her family after an argument with her parents and had like Reginald Andrews bound her power. But she had been much more radical than Reginald, like any true Borgia would have been and had also bound the power of her unborn child his grandmother Rosalie. During the few days he had spend with his father and his paternal grandparents he had learned more of his parents than in the eighteen years before: he was descendent of three of the greatest and oldest pureblood families and if he were to went even further back he could even claim to be the heir of two of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived, heir to a second dark wizard and member of one of the most influential families in both the wizarding and the muggle world. Faintly he wondered what Ron would say if he knew all that – or for that matter Malfoy, that is Draco Malfoy.

Like Harry Marcello wore a silver cloak, fastened at the neck with the family insignia. His still black hair was short as he was not the head of his family and even though his mostly Italian ancestry he was taller than Harry, towering above him with a good two inches. Both men greeted each other formally, nothing indicating that they were there to meet each other. Without further words Harry turned and led Marcello the way up to Hogwarts, both knowing that the only save place for them to speak would be Harry's chambers. None of the two were aware of the eyes watching them from high above, a calculating gaze directed at them questioning, guessing and fearing for what two so tangible powerful men were meeting at a school in times when a Dark Lord was rising.

* * *

AN: While this chapter has next to none action I hope that it will at least clear up some of the confusion that was created in the last chapter. Once again, I know that I need a Beta so if anyone likes to volunteer... till than you just have to bear with me. As far as the story-line goes at the moment you will see a bit more of Hypnos in one of the next chapters but next to nothing of Thanatos whom I will introduce into the story-line (at least as I have planned it at the moment) sometime during the second or third year. I wont answer any questions about Bellatrix because that would reveal to much of the plot but she will come up in one of the next chapters. Also there might be more about James, Sirius... and maybe even some Snape...

I love all of your reviews and if you have any ideas of what you want in this story I am always open for suggestions but can't promise that I will take them up as most of the story is already planned out.

So please keep up your nice reviews!


	20. Memories of revenge

This chapter is dark enough to deserve a foreword!

First of all thank you as always for the many reviews!

You will find that this chapter creates a rather dark image of one of the characters but before you scold me for it let me please assure you that I rather like that character, it is one of my favourites – in the books as well as my stories – but I find the past of this character lacking. There has to be a reason why he acts the ways he does so I tried to find a way to let him learn, earn his calm, serene attitude. So no, I don't hat him, I don't find that he is a monster but I also don't think that he is a saint – so how about agreeing that he is also "just" human?

**Back to the future: 20**

The two silver cloaked men walked in silence through the castle, predator like, both of them following their own strands of thought and taking seemingly no heed of the one walking besides them. Only when they had reached the private chambers of the young defence professor did they speak to each other, following the ritual of inquiries about the family – or friends – the health of the other, the invitation to a cup of tea as it was still to early for something stronger till the older of the two finally brought the reason for the meeting forth.

"Your ... request ... intrigued me, though I can't seem to find the reason why you approached me instead of my father the head of our family..."

Harry grimaced inwardly at the stiff formality of their conversation, frowning at the thought that he was related to this man on both his mothers and his fathers side. Yet as uncomfortable as this stiffness made him he could not complain as he had chosen this form. When he had fire-called Marcello hours earlier that day he had decided that it would be easier to ask for assistance as the head of the house of Andrews and a member of the house of Borgia rather than "just" Harry Andrews. He knew that Marcello had immediately seen the two signet rings he wore when they had met at the gates and from the way the older man acted he knew that the terms of the meeting had been accepted.

"You know what I am, who I am or at least suspect it... while I have no doubt that you have informed your father and mother as well as your brother and sister only you can advice me on how to act. I asked for your aid concerning the acceptance of a proposal... which I can't do as long as she is not aware of who, of what I am."

Marcello looked the younger man before him carefully over, was he sincere in his request? Was all he needed really guidance on how to tell his future wife what he was?

"Get to know her first, be absolutely sure that she loves you before you tell her what you are only than can you be sure that she won't betray your secret. If she isn't able to accept it despise her love than you will have to obliviate her."

His voice sounded cold and detached as he spoke, not indicating that they were speaking about something so dangerous and emotion-filled. A rueful smile settled on Harry's face as he listened to Marcello, how could he be sure that she loved him?

"I have less then two months before the contract has to be sealed, on the 17th of February it will be to late for me. You know the Lestrange family, don't you?"

his question was only rhetorical, of course Marcello knew the Lestrange's, if not personally than at least by name but Marcello nodded nonetheless,

"Rudolphus sixteenth birthday is on that day and both the Black's and the Lestrange's have long sought a union between their families. If the contract between the Black's and me isn't sealed by the beginning of February she will become a Lestrange and loose her sanity as soon as she comes into her magical-inheritance."

Calculating eyes regarded him, softening only when they seemed to have found what they had been searching for.

"You care for her a deeply..."

Marcello murmured more to himself as to his host,

"When are the students returning?"

he continued, once again speaking to Harry,

"Tomorrow? Call her to your office as soon as possible and tell her. If she should panic obliviate her and tell her only that you will accept her parents proposal."

Seeing Harry's shock at his advice he explained it to his young relative:

"You seem to know what her future would be should she marry the Lestrange heir and that the only way to prevent such a marriage is a bond with yourself. Therefor it doesn't matter if she knows who or what you are as long as you care for her enough to save her from such a fate as she would meet if she were to marry someone else because she could not accept you as you are. Her parents I am sure will prefer the head of the house of Andrews and a member of the house of Borgia to the heir of the house of Lestrange. You are a Borgia, act like it!"

Any further discussion was prevented as Harry noticed that they were already late for lunch and the headmaster would surely send someone after him if he would not make an appearance in the great hall.

* * *

Concern and shock were the most prominent feelings in the pureblood members of the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as they saw the two men enter the great hall to participate in the meal. Or rather those feeling cursed through them as they recognised the man that accompanied their young colleague. Every single one of them recognised the tall black-haired man with the piercing brown eyes as a Borgia. Yes, the Borgia's were known to be respected and brilliant but even more so to be evil, to be ruthless and treacherous. Even those who did not particularly liked their youngest colleague could not fathom why such a soft-spoken man as he was, was in the company of a Borgia. Of course all of them knew that Henry Potter had married a Borgia – she had to be the sister of the man that had just entered the hall – and it had been quite a scandal when the head of the rumoured heir of Gryffindor had married the only daughter of the head of the house of Borgia, whose namesake was the infamous and feared Lucreza Borgia. Not few of them wondered if his stay with the Potters, namely with Lucretia Potter had corrupted him. Only Charles seemed unaffected by the suspicion that seemed to have taken over his colleagues.

"Ah, Harry, I thought you had forgotten us as well as this wonderful meal? Come sit down my boy and tell me who your guest is!"

Grateful for his friends welcome Harry sat down besides the aged potions master as Marcello took the chair next to Harrys. Though Harry saw or rather felt the unease of his friends as he introduced Marcello he had no idea what caused it as he had only learned about traditions and rules of the wizarding world when he was approaching seventeen and he knew the name Borgia more out of Dudley's muggle-history schoolbooks than as a wizarding name. Of course he had heard or rather read that the Borgia's were one of the first crime-families but he had believed that that was only true for the non-magical part of the family but apparently that was not the case. He would have to ask Marcello about it when their were back in his rooms.

* * *

Wearily Albus Dumbledore watched as the two young men – at least compared to him young men – sat down at the table. Like the other professors he had immediately recognised the guest as the oldest son of the head of the house of Borgia, Marcello VIII if he remembered correctly. Yet it was not Marcello Borgia that worried him, no, it was the slender silver ring that Harry wore on his left hand. It was by no means unusual to wear a signet ring, or tow or more, what worried him was that he recognised that particular seal as the seal of the house of Borgia. Harry Andrews was therefor not only the head of the house of Andrews as the large golden signet ring on his right hand signified but also a member of the house of Borgia, the silver of the ring showing that he was the heir of the oldest sibling of the head of the family.

Never before had he seen the young man wearing his signet rings but now that he saw them there was no longer any doubt that he was truly a descendent, the heir of Reginald Andrews as he claimed to be; only the heir, the head of the family could wear the signet ring.

He had to confess that he had hoped that he could prove the claims of the child to be false, that he could prove that he had no relation to Reginald Andrews – but now there was no longer a chance for that to happen... and it frightened him. There were only a few principles he thought irrevocable and two of them were that people did not suddenly change and second that children followed always in their parents footsteps. Now though both of this principles were not only shaken - though the first much less than the second but that all the more – but clearly proven false. Could it be that his young professor really was the son or a very close relative of Reginald Andrews, right hand man of Grindewalt and still firmly on the sight of Light? Could he really be that different from his father? Could maybe Reginald himself have changed after Grindewalt had been defeated by him and he left the wizarding world? Was it possible for someone to change sides, to turn from evil, from dark to the light? Had he been wrong his whole life when he had thought that there was no way of redemption for those who had once sided with the dark? Could there have been a chance of redemption for Grindewalt?

No, he inwardly shook his head. Grindewalt had murdered to many people, Aberfort's whole family among them, to be ever forgiven! At least he himself would never be able to find it in himself to forgive that man, that monster. No, he still could not regret that he had hunted down the man that had destroyed his brothers life. Many thought that he had just sought justice when he had killed Grindewalt, but it had not been justice that was on his mind when he had killed the other, far from it, he had only wanted revenge. He wanted for the other to feel the pain he had brought his brother. No-one besides himself had been there when he had killed Grindewalt, no-one had seen how the man, the monster had died. When he had come back from the ... battle ... he had went immediately to his brother and had given him the one thing that, even though his heart could never be repaired, could soothe his mind at least a little bit: Grindewalt's still bloodied wand. He knew that Aberfort still kept the wand as a reminder that at least his family was avenged if not by himself than at least by his older brother.

But had he the right to judge others? Had he the right to judge Harry Andrews and even Marcello for being Borgias? Did being a member of that family – or being the son(?) of Reginald Andrews or any dark wizard – really mean that they had committed something unforgivable? Something like he himself had done? Wasn't he as bad as Grindewalt himself after the way he had killed him? Shouldn't he condemn himself for the way he had killed the man who had been responsible for the death of his brothers family? What gave him the right to judge others after he had tortured and killed a defenceless man? Did it really matter how much evil the other man had done? Shouldn't it have been enough that he was a human, no a sentient being to give him the right of a quick painless death? Was it really enough that he hadn't granted such a right to his victims that he himself no longer deserved that right?

Since the day more then twenty years ago he had avoided to ask himself those questions, questions whose answers he knew could – and would – condemn him. He had murdered Grindewalt in cold blood just like Grindewalt had done with his own victims. He had tracked him down, no hunted him down, cornered him like an animal and had than merciless killed him when he had no longer a chance or even the strength to defend himself. Oh, he hadn't used the Unforgivables to torture and kill the other wizard, no there were enough curses and charms, both light and dark, which could be just as painful as the Cruciatus if used correctly. Not to mention all those transfiguration spells he knew as a Master of Transfiguration – after all he had learned Alchemy under no-one else than Nicholas Flamel, the greatest alchemist in the last millennium. Would the wizarding world still hail him a hero when they knew how he had ... disposed ... of Grindewalt? That the other wizard had been nearly unconscious when he had killed him, killed him in a way that he had been forced to stay conscious till the last seconds of his life. Wouldn't he be seen as a wizard who was just as dark as Grindewalt himself when they learned that he had within moments of facing the other man disarmed his opponent? That he had had the chance to bring him back to England for a trial before the Wizengamot to be tried for Azkaban – but instead chose to exact his revenge on the man?

For more then twenty-five years had he buried all those doubts, all those feelings of self-hatred deep within himself, hoping, praying to forget what he had done, how he had committed the murder. Yes, he was not trying to deny that it had been murder, for some time he had even been proud about the fact but only for a short time, only till he had fully understood that nothing could restore his brothers happiness.

A soft hand covered his own, forcing him away from his dark thoughts. Looking up he saw that besides himself only Minerva was left in the Great Hall.

"Albus, are you all right?"

Minervas voice was tinged with worry, something he seldom heard directed at himself.

"I am quite fine my dear."

As he was attempting to stand up her hand held his own on the table.

"No, Albus, you are clearly not fine! You are pale and your hands are trembling!"

Shocked he raised his left hand, seeing that it was indeed trembling, only slightly but enough for Minerva and everyone else who was observing to notice. With a sigh he answered her, choosing to unburden himself at least a little bit:

"You are as always correct, my dear. My thoughts were with my brother ... and with Grindewalts fall..."

He trailed of, not able to tell her what was really bothering him and not being able to voice openly what his mind had long realised, that he was a murderer. Even though someone had had to stop Grindewalt, even though his reign of terror had had to be brought to an end had he finally realised that he had chosen the wrong way to do so. Yet he knew that if he were in the same situation again he would do the same – and that thought, that knowledge scared him more than anything else.


	21. Meeting with consequences

**Back to the future:21**

For the second time in three days a black phoenix materialised inside the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts though this time the old wizard was not present to witness it as it was hours before dawn. The red and gold Fire-phoenix that resided in the office greeted the newcomer with a trill.

"_So you have decided..."_

It was not a question merely an observation and the black phoenix would have scowled if it had been possible with a beak instead of a mouth.

"You know that I have decided, you have known all along how I would decide. But that is not what I am here for, please tell me hove I can find uncle Nicki – I have never before been to his home."

The trills that escaped Fawkes were even for human ears identifiable as laughter.

"You just have to concentrate on him child and you will always be able to find him. As old as he is he has yet to learn to shield from our magic. Go visit him I am sure that he will gladly help you!"

Even though Harry knew that Fawkes was very perceptive it still annoyed him slightly that the phoenix could so easily predict his actions and interpret his thoughts and emotions. With a trill of thanks he concentrated on uncle Nicki willing to be with the other man and in a cloud of shadows he shifted his position, finding himself face to face with a wide awake Nicholas Flamel.

"Harry, child, what a wonderful surprise to see you on this fine morning... have you eaten yet?"

* * *

He had sent the owl as soon as he was certain that the train had left Kings Cross and the look she was sending him as she entered the Great Hall confirmed that she had received his message and would be meeting him after the feast. Had he done the right thing? Was he doing the right thing? When he had entered with uncle Nicki he had drawn strange looks from most of the teachers especially the headmaster. Who was most likely wondering what his friend was doing in the castle without coming to visit him. For Harry the meal was tense, both the headmaster and Bellatrix send curious glances in his direction whenever they though he would not notice and he began questioning himself again if he was doing the right thing. Too soon for his liking the meal ended and uncle Nicki was following him to his rooms – Bellatrix would follow later.

As soon as they had entered his quarters Harry walked over to a small cabinet and picked up a full bottle of firewhiskey, and turning around to the older man he offered him a glass.

"No, it is better that I don't drink anything alcoholic at the moment in case her memory needs to be modified. Otherwise it would be too dangerous for her, her memory could be permanently damaged... but I won't decline a hot chocolate and do you have some Eucalyptus Twirls to spare?"

Nicholas Flamel was not in the least offended that his young host was barely reacting to his words but only absentmindedly called for a house elf for the hot chocolate while he brought fourth the requested candy.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

It was not the first time that Harry asked him that question since he had come to him that morning. What should, what could he answer to such a question? It was dangerous, exceedingly so to meddle with time and only the future could tell if Harry Potter, no Harry Andrews was doing the right thing. Yet the future Harry knew would change with every decision he made but it was equally possible that the decisions he was making at that very moment were the once that had created the future Harry knew... No-one could tell what happened if you made decisions in the past.

"Harry, you have to ask yourself why you are doing this, why you are willing to marry her. Is it because you love her or because you think that she is the most profitable or is it because you want to change her future, the future she had before you came here? Think about it, what is your motivation?"

There was no answer he could give Harry, nothing definite that he could say to ease the younger mans mind and conscious but he could try to assure him that he was doing it for the right reasons even though the outcome may be fatal.

"I don't know, I honestly don't know. I told you that her future would be horrible or was horrible... What I didn't tell you was that she was one of the most devoted followers of the next Dark Lord... She killed and tortured without mercy and I hated her nearly as much as her "master". Yet when I came here I met this sweet thirteen year old girl who is kind and witty and intelligent and beautiful and the only thing that she had in common with the woman I knew where her name and her beauty.

In these short months I have fallen in love with her even though I know what she is capable of becoming ... Then, at Boxing Day when I received the proposal everything made suddenly sense: she is an Aura Seer. Her parents married her to a dark, no evil wizard who was a devoted follower of the next Dark Lord... can you imagine what a torture that must have been for her? When I first met her I thought she was insane and after reading the proposal I _know _that she was insane!

How can I allow that the girl I love is tortured in that way when I could prevent it?"

* * *

A knock on the door that led directly to the corridor prevented Nicholas from finding an answer. For a moment a look that bordered on sheer panic flickered over Harry's face before it was replaced by his normal emotionless mask. After a swift look around the room Harry walked towards the door and beckoned the waiting third year inside.

"Thank you for coming on such a short notice, Ms Black. I hope you mentioned the nature of this visit to no-one?"

"No, professor, no-one saw the owl or the letter."

Harry was too nervous to note the apprehension and even a bit of fear in his student's voice but Nicholas picked it up immediately:

"There is no need for fear, child. Sit down and have a hot chocolate or would you prefer Eucalyptus Twirls or maybe we could convince your professor to part with some of his Blood Drops or Mint Leaves?"

Seeing that Bellatrix had calmed slightly he turned to Harry:

"Sit down my boy. You are wearing a hole into your lovely carpet!"

At being directly addressed by his ...mentor... Harry started abruptly but walked over to the table and poured himself a second shot of firewhiskey before he sat down in one of the armchairs as Bellatrix had chosen to sit on the couch. With a sigh he looked at his student and began:

"You already know that your parents send a proposal for you, I bid you here to ask you if you want me to accept... and to tell you some things about me you will have to know if I were to accept – so do you want me to accept the proposal?"

His heart was racing, even with two glasses of firewhiskey he had not calmed him down. He had always wondered how he would propose to his future wife. He had thought of proposing in a beautiful restaurant or on the shore of a quiet lake... he never, really never had imagined that he would propose to a fourteen year old girl, worse yet his own student and if that wasn't enough a student whose parents had written him an official proposal.

There was nothing romantic about it, no sunset, no stars, and no candles – ok his room was lit by candles, the fire from the fireplace and some torches but still... He knew that it must be equally disappointing for Bellatrix if not more so but if she accepted he would propose properly to her, with a ring and everything!

"Yes!"

Her answer was clear and without a single doubt notable in her voice, something which let him relax at least a little bit, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to tell her.

"Before I can tell you anything I must warn you that if you can't handle what I have to tell you your memory will have to be modified. I am fully aware that this is barely legal but I have no choice, what I have to tell you is too dangerous for anyone to know. Can you agree with this?"

It was clear that she was everything but happy with the prospect of having her memory altered but she was to much of a Slytherin to let that stop her from learning the secrets of her professor – maybe soon to be fiancé – to let that stop her, after all memory-charms could be broken! Seeing her nod Harry took a deep breath and began.

"What you must know about me is that first of all my name is not Henry Andrews. I am not the son of Reginald Andrews as I pretend to be, I am his grandson. My mother was the younger daughter of Reginald. Her older sister is a squib as both her father and her mothers mother bound their powers. While my great grandmother bound her powers she was already pregnant with my grandmother therefor rendering her effectively a squib. Both my maternal grandparents are died before I reached my second year of life.

My parents both went to Hogwarts where they met and started dating in their seventh year as far as I know. They were killed when I was fifteen months old and as my godfather was ... indisposed and the other best friend could also not take care of me I was send to live with my mothers sister, her husband and her son who was a month older than me when my parents were murdered. I hated them just as much as they hated me and till my eleventh birthday I had no idea that magic even existed. Till I met the teachers of my parents I had no idea what kind of people my parents were, I didn't even know what they looked like as I had never seen pictures of them. Yet, even than I hardly learned more than their names. In my third year I learned that my father loved pranks and that my mother hated him till the end of their sixth year. I was compared to them by different persons but it still took till I was fifteen to learn that my father was a bully in his youth and got only better when he got older. When I was seventeen I learned who my maternal grandfather was and a week ago who my grandmother was and that my parents were actually related to each other and that my mother was contrary to what I had heard up to then a pureblood.

I see that you are wondering why I tell you all this but allow me to introduce myself to you:

"I am Henry James Reginald Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans – correctly Lily Andrews. I am eighteen years old and will be born in eight years."

Both man watched Bellatrix expectantly as she listened to the tale of her professor but while Harry knew of what he was speaking Nicholas was attentively listening as he so far only knew his name and that he came from the future.

To be fair it has to be said that it took a lot to shock Bellatrix Black and both man knew it. What she had just learned would have made a lesser person faint yet there she sat, eyes wide and unable to do more than stare. After a while Harry stood up and walked over to a cabinet filled with glasses and goblets of all kind. When he came back to them he held a second shot glass in his hand and filled it before handing it to the still silent Bellatrix. Without hesitation the young girl drank the offered alcohol and began to cough violently after the first sip. As expected that broke her shock and she opened her mouth only to close it again moments later. It took her three attempts before she found her voice again.

"Let me get that straight, professor: Your name is actually Henry Potter and you are the son of two Gryffindor first years and will be born in eight years. Your parents are dead and you grew up as a muggle. Oh, not to forget you are only eighteen and want to marry me even though I am twenty-two years older than you."

Harry nodded:

"Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. If I were to accept your proposal you would have to come back with me to the future. Everyone you know would have aged or even died in the meantime so you must think carefully if you really want me to accept – I would not be offended if you would chose rather not to. Even though I know that it is a hard decision to make I must ask you to make it now."

* * *

Incredulously Bellatrix stared at her professor. She could not make a decision like that in a few moments! Her entire life would be affect by that decision. How could he be so inconsiderate? Suddenly a thought came to her, if he was from the future he must know what she would be like in the future, whom she would marry if not him...

"What am I like in the future? How was I when you came back, whom was I married to if not you? What did I do, did I have children..."

Abruptly she stopped as she saw the pained look in his eyes. She had seen that look once before, when they had met in Diagon Alley but that time it had vanished almost immediately – this time it stayed. It seemed that he didn't want to answer her but finally he did and she wished she had never asked.

"You were married to Rudolphus Lestrange and famous or rather infamous thorough the whole British wizarding world and beyond. When I was sixteen months old you were imprisoned as a follower of a Dark Lord for killing and torturing. Your favourite curse was the Cruciatus, you tortured several families to insanity before killing them. One couple were the parents of one of my friends. It was this friend who killed you a few months before I came here. You were the only person I ever attempted to torture right after you had killed your cousin my godfather.

When I first saw you I knew immediately that you were insane, your only thought was the Dark Lord and to please him in any way possible... that was when I was fifteen, you had spend the whole time in-between in Askaban together with your husband your brother in law and many others. To your defence I can say that you were already insane before you went to Askaban, your mind having been broken around the time you left Hogwarts.

I do not know if what I know of you from my ...past... will really become your future but I pray that it will not. You do not deserve such a life, no-one deserves such a life. Yet that is not the reason why I want to accept your proposal, I do not pity you or what you can become rather I fell in love with the girl that clapped when her cousin was sorted into the rivalling house.

It is your choice and yours alone nothing I have told you should influence your decision as the future id not certain. What I told you does not have to come to pass, you might live a happy life with Rudolphus or anyone else if you chose too do not base your decision on vague ghosts."

How could her decision not be influenced by what she had just heard? How could she not try everything to change such a dark future? Was there really a choice that she could make? Wasn't the only way open to her too marry her professor and hadn't she made that decision even before she had heard what her future or at least a possible future would look like? As she concentrated her eyes once more on the man she might be marrying she saw that he was no

longer looking at her but at something on the wall behind her. While his face looked as pensive and emotionless as most of the time his eyes were different, they were open – and so much older than anyone's eyes she had ever seen. Professor Mortimer was nearly a century old and yet his eyes did not seem so old, so weary as the eyes as Professor Andrews, no Professor Potter.

What had happened to him to have such old, such ...defeated ... eyes? He had said that his parents were killed when he was an infant and that his family, the family he had to live with hated him. Worse yet he had seen herself kill her own cousin, his godfather who could only be Sirius as he was already a friend of James Potter his father. Was she the reason his eyes looked that way or at least one of the reasons? Was it her fault that he seemed weary far beyond his age? Maybe it was not her fault at least not fully but she had finally reached her decision and she knew in her heart and mind that she would never regret that choice no matter what the future would have in store for her.

* * *

Many thanks to Gallandro for being my new Beta! 


	22. Pureblood Politics I

**Back to the future: 22**

Nicholas watched silently as young Miss Black left the room. A slip of paper with a notice from Harry to any of his colleagues firmly clasped in her hand. She looked so frail yet the proud glint in her eyes was unmistakable. And why shouldn't she be proud? Out of Merlin knows how many proposals he had picked her and not for her money or name, no, he had picked her because he had a crush on her! Wasn't that enough to make any girl ecstatic to know that their crush was not one sided?

A smile flickered over his face as he saw the large grin on his young friend's face, a grin he had seen on so many faces during the years.

"When will you write to her parents?"

His question brought Harry out of his stupor but did nothing to erase that stupid grin. Nearly floating Harry walked over to one of the cabinets and opened it, holding a scroll up for him to see.

"I already did, I just have to set the date and seal it!"

Without a word Nicholas held his hand out for the parchment and read it silently after he received it. Over the years he had read so many of those acceptance letters, many young man had come to him for help just like Harry had when they had no-one else to go to.

"Bring me some new parchment and your Andrews ring, child. I believe that it is time for you to use blood-parchment."

Even though he trusted Nicolas Flamel with his life Harry hesitated at his request. What was blood-parchment?

"Come, child, give me those items, I am sure that your acceptance will inspire greater respect when it is written on your own blood-parchment."

As Harry still didn't comply he looked up to see the questioning gaze of his young friend.

"You do know what blood-parchment is, don't you?" at Harrys negative answer he started to explain: "I am certain that you have heard of Blood-potions and that they are more potent than those potions without blood. What is seldom told is that blood-potions are a mere by-product of true blood-magic or blood-alchemy. As you undoubtedly know Alchemy is a combination of Transfiguration and Potions to put it simple.

When Albus was working with me he discovered the ten uses of Dragon blood in potions – at least that is what is generally known. What he really did discover was sixteen uses of Dragon blood. Ten can be used in normal potions, but the other six can only be used in Alchemy.

Human blood can be used just as nearly every other type of blood. One of the uses is to create certain items that can only be touched and used within a certain bloodline such as signet-rings or blood-parchment. When the time is right we will create for you a new signet-ring; but for now we will just create the parchment. These items are very rare and hard to create as you have to be an Alchemist to create them and there are only seven of my profession alive at the moment – Albus and myself included. Only the oldest and richest families have their own blood-parchment while most pureblood families invest in a signet-ring if they haven't inherited one. Each of the rings is infused with the magic of the bearer and the creator – that is the first bearer whose blood was used. If you combine two or more rings to one the magic will flow into the new ring making it stronger than the originals.

But I will tell you more about these things when we have more time – for now lets create your own blood-parchment."

Harry remembered that Hermione had once spoken of such a parchment but she had used a different name for it and that Ron had said that even the Malfoys did not possess such parchment – no wonder when an Alchemist was needed to create it: in his own time only four were left and none of them was evil and would associate with the Malfoys.

"What do I have to do?" he asked Nicholas as he brought him a stack of fresh parchment and his Andrews signet-ring.

"Follow me and bring a knife or sword - or anything with a blade - with you that has a sentimental meaning to you."

Bewildered Harry called a small dagger with an ornate and enchanted steel-blade to him that had been a gift from the older Weasley boys to his graduation and followed Nicholas as he walked to the dungeons where they entered one of the unused potions labs. Fascinated he watched as uncle Nicki filled one of the larger cauldrons that lined the wall with water before calling different potion ingredients to himself and preparing them. Only after an hour of constant stirring, measuring and boiling did he turn to Harry.

"Now you have to cut your right hand with the knife you brought, it should be a clean cut across your palm. Then place with your cut hand your ring and then the parchment into the potion. You will start when I begin chanting and end when I stop by dipping you hand for moments into the potion to complete it – don't worry, the potion won't burn your hand and the cut will be healed when you take your hand out of the potion."

Dubiously Harry slipped his glove off and raised the dagger to cut his right palm which immediately begun to bleed heavily. When he picked up his ring he noticed, that each word that uncle Nicki spoke seemed to send a pulse through his hand increasing the blood flow. As soon as the bloodied ring touched the surface of the dark blue potion it flashed bight yellow only to return to his blue colour. The stack of parchment he picked up afterwards was drenched with his blood by the time he dropped it in the potion and he was beginning to feel light- headed. Never would he have thought that one could loose so much blood through a simple cut. Almost hesitantly he raised his hand once again to place it in the boiling potion yet when his fingers touched it he was surprised to find it quiet cool. A motion from Uncle Nicki let him sink his hand completely into the potion as the old alchemist finished the chant. For a moment Harry thought it was over and wanted to raise his arm when a head-shake of uncle Nicki stopped him; just as he wanted to ask what the matter was did he start to feel a rush of power that originated from the potion and was travelling through the cut in his hand through his whole body. His whole world seemed to explode around him as he saw the potion turn clear before seeping into the parchment. Before his eyes he saw the cut on his hand heal, leaving not even the faintest hint of a scar. Only when the cut was completely healed did a seal start to form on the parchment.

He had seen the crest before on the ring and even on his robe but on a parchment it looked completely different, more sinister. Faintly glowing black lines formed in the middle a wand and a floret which were crossing each other. In an arch above the two weapons was written _justice _and_ - _also in an arch – beneath them _time. _In the room between the two crossed weapons above the word _time_ was a small hourglass visible, the sand suspended in the upper half of the glass. The background of the whole seal was formed of flames. He had no-idea what any of it meant and Uncle Nicki had told him when he had asked during their first meeting that he would have to ask Reginald Andrews about it. After a while uncle Nicki's voice brought him back from his thoughts:

"Now you can write your acceptance again and they will know that they can be happy that you even glanced a second time at their proposal – much less accepted it."

* * *

He was not nervous, on the contrary he was completely calm and collected as he stood in front off his large mirror in the bedroom of his quarters at Hogwarts. No, he was definitely not nervous about meeting his future parents in law for the first time and working out the marriage contract. In the glass of the mirror he could see the slightly smiling face of his great grandfather who would accompany him and scowled at him. Why was it that Marcello looked perfect in his Borgia robes, just like the dignified respected Head of a family he was – and he himself looked like a little boy who had dressed up in his father's robes?

Finally Marcello had enough of his young relative and stood up from the armchair he had been sitting in. Walking over to the younger man he placed his hand on his shoulder:

"You look just fine, Harry! Have you yet decided how to wear your hair? You have it at the right length for the head of a family and you have many possibilities to wear it. What message do you want to give them? Do you want to wear it tied back like you wore it at Christmas and show them that the meeting is a rather unimportant business-meeting for you? Or would you prefer the "look at me, I'm important but to lazy to do something with my hair" look as little Marcello likes to call it? Or would you rather prefer the duelling or teachers-braid?..."

With a sigh Marcello looked at Harry as he got no reaction:

"Just relax, child, I will braid you your hair the way I wore it when I took over as the Head of our house."

Nimble fingers set to work and soon Harry wore the top layer of his hair in a duelling-braid and the rest open, a hair-style that kept his hair effectively out of his face emphasising his startling eyes. Now, with his hair done Harry had to agree that he _did _look like the head of one of the important pureblood families. Not like Malfoy senior had –or rather would – look but more like Marcello. It had been Lucretia who had taken him shopping the weekend before, ensuring that he had the right clothes for the ... discussion. He was clad in silvery dragon-hide boots – he would like to someday see one of those Siberian jewels from which the hide came. These were partially covered by shimmering black trousers woven of the hair of mermen leaving Harry to wonder who came up with the ideas for the material to be used even when he had to agree that it felt very good and looked as if it were made out of liquid, shimmering and glittering even when he was not moving– and it was comfortable. Like his trousers were, his shirt and vest woven from the hair of merpeople, but this time the mermaids. The shirt he wore was of softer silver that wasn't as reflective as that of his boots but seemed instead to have a hint of blue in it. Like the trousers the vest was black. Over this attire Harry wore his robes of declaration as was required by tradition.

All in all he had to confess, at least to himself, that he looked once again like the Slytherin-poster-boy but then, black and silver were the Andrews colours and his green eyes were also inherited from that line though he would change them for nothing in the world.

"Let's go, child – the sooner we get there the sooner you are engaged and we can leave."

In silence both of them walked to the apparation-point just outside the wards of Hogwarts and apparated to the co-ordinates that had been delivered to Harry. They were greeted by a house-elf as they reappeared at the door of a large townhouse and were led into a sitting room where both Lysander and Calpurnia were waiting for them. At least they were waiting for Harry as he had failed to inform them that he would be accompanied. Of course that was not polite, but he was not making a social call. He was forming a political alliance.

"I hope, that it presents no problem that I brought Marcello with me." Harry asked after they had greeted each other and the flicker of annoyance in both Lysanders' and Calpurnias' eyes told him that it was not alright.

"Of course it is no problem" Calpurnia told them sweetly, "but may I ask for the reason that led you to bring Lord Borgia to the finalisation of your engagement?"

Before Harry could answer Marcello spoke, his voice taking a dangerous and warning tone:

"As neither his father nor his grandfather, on either side is still alive I choose to accompany my nephew to such an important meeting – and help him decide if the girl is raised to the standards of an Andrews and a Borgia..."

Only the fact that nearly every wizarding child was raised to respect – and fear – the Borgia allowed the two Blacks to hold their composure. It was after all common knowledge that the Borgias held true to their treats and despised fear and weakness. As Marcello had told him when they had first discovered his heritage: fear in the face of an enemy equals death´ - something he could only agree with when he thought of his many encounters with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Not soon after they sat down they heard the tell tale crack of an apparation and Orion and his wife Cassandra walked in. Of course neither they nor Marcello should be there, but Bellatrix's parents as well as he himself had called for others to join them to help strengthen their positions. Only he knew who would be there waiting for him, they had no inclination that he was a Borgia. This was definitely become a very interesting meeting! After all it was not often that you saw the eyes of the heads of the Black family widen in shock and no small amount of fear.


	23. Pureblood Politics II

**Back to the future:23**

They had already spend more then an hour at the house of the younger Black and had still not even started on the contract. Of course Marcello had warned him that it would happen, such meetings always included a few glasses of expensive wine and small talk – not because it was polite to do so but because it was easier to take advantage off – or dispose off – someone who was intoxicated. From time to time Harry had been able to catch the fearful glances Sirius mother directed at him and Marcello and it amused him to no end to see the woman, whose portrait had screamed at them so many times, so fearful. To him it was quiet obvious, that they had hoped to take advantage of him, a young inexperienced man who had more money than was proper. Marcellos presence had destroyed all those – no doubt carefully laid – plans, no-one would dare to harm a Borgia.

"What terms do you have regarding the engagement and marriage?" Harry asked finally and was rewarded with slightly startled glances from all four Blacks.

"As soon as the engagement contract is signed you will be faithful to your betrothed and uphold her honour, you will not be able to cancel the contract unless Bellatrix is either unfaithful to you or the contract is broken from our side. Further you will pay for all expenses of the wedding, till that day we will provide for her as we have till this day."

It was Orion who answered Harry and while he was technically allowed to do so as the head of the House of Black did it show both Harry and Marcello how little respect he had for both his brother and his niece.

"I will be faithful as soon as the bond is completed, not sooner – but I expect that Bellatrix is still a virgin in her wedding night! She will not be touched by me and certainly not by an other man before that time!"

Harry answered with a steely voice. They could certainly not expect him to stay clear of women till he married Bellatrix – after all he was only eighteen.

* * *

With pride Marcello watched as his sisters grandson negotiated with the head of the house of Black. If he had had any doubt that Harry really was a member of his family this doubts were destroyed as he watched him now. The silent confidence, the predatory smile that danced around his lips while he listened to their hosts, his graceful calculated movements and words – all that screamed Borgia. That were all traits that could not be learned or imitated, they could not even be inherited if the Borgia-blood was not dominant enough. Imogene had been everything the Borgias stood for, everything they were proud of – till the day she fell in love.

It had never mattered to the Borgia if their spouses were magical or muggle, true, most of the time they preferred to marry someone with a large fortune but if one of them lost their heart to someone without a fortune they did nothing against it. It didn't even matter to them if the intended was dark or light or if they were so called half-breeds or of an other race. Therefor it shouldn't have mattered when his sister fell in love with a none human.

But it did.

Of all the millions of humans and creatures on the planet that would have created no problem she fell in love with the one that did. Not his race or his wealth or even his family created a problem with their parents. No, what created the problem was that it was this person that had killed one of their ancestors in a duel. What no-one except the head of the family knew was, that the Borgias were not as human as they pretended to be. Like most pureblood families they had over the time procreated with one or the other magical race. While in the veins of the Black flowed the blood of Banshees and goblins and in the veins of the Malfoy the blood of Veelas in the veins of the Borgias flowed the most magical blood to be found in the world: the blood of the Eldar.

During the centuries there had been quite a few marriages between the Eldar and the Borgias. It was this blood that was responsible for their grace and their faire faces. It was also this blood that allowed them to live longer than others and age slower. Without their connection to the Eldar they would not have been as confident and accurate with their weapons and so sure in their use of magic. Over the years the Borgia had been known to be cruel and unforgiving and while that was true few knew that a Borgia would never hurt an innocent. Their hearts and souls were too pure for that. Their human side was as easily corrupted as any others but their Eldar side always stayed pure. Yet even the Eldar had a point where they snapped and the Eldar that had captured Imogenes heart had reached that point centuries ago when one of their ancestors had killed his brother in a terrible misunderstanding. The duel had been fair and had followed every guideline and yet their ancestor had lost, not only the duel but also his life.

Imogene had been the child in the family, adored and spoiled. May be it was for that reason that his father had acted so overly cruel when he found out who his daughter loved. The day she had presented Narwa to their parents her father had forbidden her to ever see him again. Three weeks later she had run away and he had only seen her twice after that: the first time when he had stood next to her at her wedding and the second and last time when she had called him more then two months later. Their father had found her and her husband only hours before they were to leave Italy forever. He had never been able to forgive his father for what he had done to his beloved sister. When he had arrived at their hide-out he had found Imogene in tears, Narwa dying in her arms. He had watched as Narwa intoned a ritual to insure that only a child that resembled him would inherit his powers and his blessing and that this child would be able – if ever the need arose – to pass this blessing on to his or her own children. It had torn his heart to see his sister breaking down as her husband of two months died in her arms. The last he ever did to her was helping her bind her powers and the powers of her unborn child. When Harry had given him the photos of his grandmother and his mother he had immediately recognised his sister, the sister he hadn't seen for so many years.

Carefully he watched Harry and all four Blacks as his thoughts drifted to his sister. The first time he had seen Harry he had been reminded of Henry Potter but as soon as he looked closer he found that Harry would look almost exactly like Narwa if he had the fiery red hair of the Eldar. But more pronounced than the outer resemblance was that he acted just like Narwa had. He moved and talked the same way and even his smile was that of his brother in law. He hadn't been the least shocked when Marcello had told him that Harry was a Guardian – after all who was more likely to stay pure than someone with so much blood of an Eldar? Only one of the Eldar would have been a better option. Someday he would have to tell Harry what being a Borgia really meant, especially being a descendant of Imogene Borgia and Narwa.

He missed his sister, had missed her since the night all those years ago when he had finished the incantation to bind her powers. All that had been left for her was to drink a potion that activated the spells. He had promised her then that he would not search for her and that he would make sure that her inheritance would find its way to one of her descendants when they ever were to contact him. Harry had received what had become of Imogenes heritage and he would make sure that nothing happened to the child.

"You are pure-blooded?" Marcellos eyes fixed immediately on Cassandra Black as she voiced her question and even her husband seemed ... disturbed... that his wife dared to ask such a question in the presence of a Borgia.

"You are asking this for what reason?" as soon as he had heard the question Harrys clear green eyes had darkened and had taken on an unearthly glow.

"No Black will marry a mudblood!" Cassandra all but screeched at him and a dark smile settled on Harrys face.

"No, I won't suppose any Black would do that, wouldn't they? How is Andromeda nowadays?"

Silence met his question, a glare from Orion having silenced his wife.

"To answer your question, Mrs Black: yes, I am a pureblood." Changing the subject he continued: "You will continue to pay for your daughters needs till the day of the wedding. Every summer she will spend the last month at a place of my choosing and the first month with you. You may send Narcissa along with her if both girls were to wish for it, if that should be the case you are to inform me at least a week in advance. Bellatrix may choose where she wishes to spend Christmas but again I wish to be informed more then a week before their start. The wedding will take place two years after she has finished school – either in the second half of the summer or during the Christmas holidays..."

As soon as he had sad this Calpurnia interrupted him, her voice nearly as screeching as that of her sister in law:

"You want to wait for two years after she left Hogwarts? You want to wait for more then six years!"

She would have undoubtedly continued if not for the angry glare of her husbands brother. Before Harry had a chance to answer Marcello spoke in his place.

"You are not able to raise her in a way that is required for a Borgia. She will spend the two years after she has finished Hogwarts under my and my wife's tutelage to learn all she needs to know. Everyone who marries into my family is required to do so – and I will certainly make no exception for your daughter!"

His voice broke no argument and none of their hosts dared to speak against him. He was not sure why Harry wanted to have his wedding take place only two years after his fiancée had left school but he would make sure that her family complied with his wishes. When he had for the first time witnessed the power the mere mentioning of his name had over other people, muggles and wizards alike, he had been shocked. Of course he had learned as a child that many had committed murder or suicide at a word, not even a command, from a Borgia – but still it was rather fearsome to witness it. Even after all these years he found it discerning how readily others complied at a mere word or gesture from him or any member of his family. He knew that it was partly due to their blood as only few creatures could resist the ... pull... the Eldar had over others but mostly it was through the long and well known history of their family.

Yes, he would have to talk to Harry soon to help him to fully utilise the power he had over others, even more so than he himself. He may be a Borgia, the head of the House of Borgia, but Harry was a Borgia _and _a Guardian and something else. Simmering under the surface he felt something powerful that came not from being a Guardian or a Borgia, something that not even a Eldar possessed but it was close. It was as pure as a true Eldar and equally powerful. He had talked many times with both his sons and his daughter as well as his wife over what each of them felt, sensed about Harry Andrews and while Marcello VIII was able to tell that he was the most powerful Guardian none of them could say more than that they felt pure magic from him. Part of this magic, this pure magic, came from Narwas blessing. That part even felt like the magic he had felt from Narwa, but that part was small compared to the rest they felt. If he dind't know better he would say that Harry was one of the first Eldar. He had only had the honour to meet one of them when he had still been a child and the mere presence of the ancient Eldar had left his senses reeling – much like Harry did but still very different. He would not even attempt to ask Harry who or what he really was besides seeking for clarification which Guardian he was. If the young man should ever choose to tell him he would be honoured, but he would not ask.

It was humorous and at the same time disturbing to watch how both Harry and himself played the Blacks. He was sure that, had they been anyone else, the Blacks would have stopped the negotiations by then. They were not able to refuse a single of Harrys demands where Harry on the other hand had refused all but two of theirs. If they weren't Borgia he was sure that they would have created themselves new enemies during the few hours they had so far spend at the house of the younger Black, but as it was they were to feared to be threatened.

He did not smile as Harry and both male Blacks sealed the contract. He said nothing as he himself added his seal as a witness. Now he knew would come that part of the meeting where other political connections would be discussed and he hoped that Harry was versed enough in this games to not fall into one of the numerous traps they could present. Did he know that he was a member of the ancient council if it ever were to be called again? Was he even aware that such a council existed? Someday soon he would have to talk with the young man about every important fact of the wizarding world, till then he could only hope that Harry knew enough to survive the pureblood world.


	24. You are playing with fire

**First of all I have an interesting link on my authors page: at the HP lexicon is a drawing that portraits Harry almost exactly as I picture him.**

**DF default**: Yes, I know that there is barely any mentioning of Tom till now _but_ my reasoning for that is easily explained: At the moment we are in 1972 and as Rowling gave no indication how long Tom wreaked havoc before he offed himself accidentally I plan to slowly built his character. At the moment he has just resurfaced and is slowly gathering followers – yes, he will also try to recruit Harry at some point, maybe even more than once. As I see, it the real terror lasted only for about five years, before that there were only smaller attacks on muggles but nothing major and nothing against purebloods. So have patients I have not forgotten dear Tom – as you said my story is still in the infant stadium

**Lucullus**: don't fear, Harry's family is now complete! From the Eldar he didn't get any new powers, it has more to do with the protection his mother gave him, his grace and a few advantages and disadvantages – so no god-like powers for Harry! 

**Skuld's Sentaro 4**: Well, the Goblin-Blood is not something the Black's advertise, more like something they have buried deep down under their deepest dungeon – but than the Borgia are that type of people who dig up the corpses others hide in their closets to have something for future black-mail, forgive me I mean persuasion.

None of the purebloods talk openly about their none-human bloodlines but some – like the Malfoy – are just not able to hide it, the beauty and temperament of their Veela side gives them (the Malfoy) away; or if Harry should have a child with a full-blooded Eldar the possibility that that child would have pointy ears is very very high. As for the reason I choose Goblins for the Black line: Goblins aren't exactly light creatures – but they are also not dark. Goblins care mostly for money and will do everything for it. Likewise Blacks are neither light nor (completely) dark as you can see best on canon Regulus: he joins Voldemort because he shares some of his believes but after only a short time he tries to leave – and is killed. He cared for power and the purity of blood – but he was not willing to kill for it.

So yes, the Blacks have Goblin blood somewhere many generations before Sirius, and I mean MANY generations.

Also for those reviewers I haven't answered above: thank you very much for your review!

**Back to the future 24**

Silently Harry played with the glass of wine he held in his right hand, knowing that every single of the present Blacks stole curious glances at his gloved hands. Till he had come to the past he had found nearly everyone staring at his hand, yet only a few had dared to ask – and only uncle Nicki had so far received an answer to his question. He knew that he was provoking his hosts to ask about the reason for wearing a glove and he revelled in the knowledge that they would be forced to ask – and therefor admit their curiosity if they wanted to learn what he was hiding beneath it. The wine was good, as Marcello had remarked one from one of his own vineyards – something that none of the Blacks had liked to hear. Had he not been able to learn from the experience of being the Boy-Who-Lived, he would have been stunned by the reaction he received at being a member of the house of Borgia. The proud Blacks didn't even dare to look the wrong way at Marcello or himself, in fear that they would scorn the two powerful men.

For moments he had seen Marcello falter after they had sealed the agreement but he doubted that the others had seen it. Still he wondered what the cause for this could have possible been. Did Marcello fear that he would not be able to navigate safely through all the traps the coming political placement would bring? Or had it been because of something he had already done.

"You were home-schooled, Mr Andrews?"

Calpurnia asked him, her voice once again sweet, reminding him eerily of his "beloved" Dolores Umbridge. As he granted her only a polite nod as an answer she continued:

"What house do you believe you would have been best suited, your father was as I recall a Huffelpuff..."

The distaste at saying Huffelpuff, even more in association with the father of her future son in law was clearly audible in her voice as she spoke. When Harry smiled even Marcello was disturbed at the clearly feral nature of the smile:

"Oh, I have it from a reliable source that I would have done great in Slytherin, that they would have helped me on my way to greatness."

Someday he would have to thank the Sorting-hat for telling him these facts. Now of course he knew why he would have been great in Slytherin – and why Gryffindor had been the alternative. Who would have thought, that it was not Voldemort, or at least not in the way they thought, that accounted for the Slytherin side of the innocent Boy-Who-Lived? Who would have thought that he was indeed the heir of both Slytherin and Gryffindor?

"Slytherin, yes the most noble of the houses as was his founder."

Cassandra backed the second Mrs Black up, trying fearfully to conceal her unease at Harry's smile.

"Indeed, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."

And a megalomania Harry continued for himself. None of the Blacks had to know that that were not his thoughts but merely one of the passwords dear Slytherin had set.

Slowly the Blacks regained an ease they had not had since Harry and Marcello had entered, believing to have found someone who shared their ideals. Marcello though was starting to wonder on which side his sisters grandson was. Did he share the believes of those pureblood-fanatics like the Black's and Malfoy's or was he free of all those blood-prejudges as he had believed and hoped?

"It is a pity that Slytherins heir has yet to reclaim his seat in the Council for it to be once again able to rule."

Here it comes was the thought that flickered through both Harry's and Marcello's mind, though while Marcello feared that Harry might no know enough, Harry thanked Hermione in his heart for drilling all these – in his opinion silly – pureblood rites and laws into his head when they had discovered that he was indeed a pureblood.

"It is , isn't it? But then he isn't the only one. None of the other heirs of the four has claimed their seat. The lines of the four Founders have become reclusive over the years though I don't doubt that when they rise they will send a shock-wave through the wizarding-world that has never been preceded in its magnitude."

For what greater shock could come to the Wizarding world to learn that the Boy-Who-Lived, The-Defeater-Of-Evil was the heir of Gryffindor and Slytherin?

He knew that he was the last Founder heir, both other heirs, the heir of Ravenclaw and the heir of Huffelpuff had been killed by Voldemort during his first reign. Both Caradoc Dearborn, the heir of Helga Huffelpuff who was in his own time missing, presumed death and Dorcas Meadows the heiress of Ravenclaw who had been killed before his birth, had been members of the Order of the Phoenix during Voldemorts first rise. He was the last, within him flowed the blood of two founders, when he died only Neville would be left as he was also a descendant of Salira Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. As neither Caradoc nor Dorcas had had children Hogwarts was technically his, even though the founders had agreed that Hogwarts would belong to no-one as long as it was used as a school. Only when it was no longer used to house and teach students would it fall back to the heirs.

Neither Harry nor Marcello missed the pleased expressions on their hosts faces as they heard with what respect Harry spoke of the four founders, especially Slytherin.

* * *

When they were leaving the Blacks at nearly midnight they had spend most of the evening discussing topics around Slytherin and his heirs. Of course they had also spoken of other themes but had always returned to Slytherin – and much to Marcellos shock had Harry joined in the glorification of the heir of Slytherin. Both were completely silent as they walked up to the castle and into Harry's rooms but as soon as they had entered his warded quarters did Marcello question him:

"I wasn't aware that you were in league with the new self-proclaimed Dark Lord!"

His tone indicated clearly that Harry's answer was better no as Marcello was one of the few Heads of the Borgia who was openly neutral if not Light.

"Nor am I. I wasn't praising the so called Lord Voldemort but the heir of Slytherin. For as much as Voldemort claims to be the heir he isn't. He is only a descendant and before him come several others should the heir die before he can claim that title."

A soft smile was playing around his lips while he spoke, marvelling at the justice that Voldemort would not be able to claim the title.

"You are playing with fire, Harry. One wrong word, one wrong step and even I will be hard pressed to protect you. He will try to recruit you when he learns of the declarations you made this evening and have no doubt, he will learn of them: the Blacks are among his followers."

Harry looked at his great-grandfather completely unfazed though the smile had vanished from his face, making place for a solemn, determined expression:

"I am waiting for him to recruit me."

Whatever Marcello had expected, this announcement had not been among his ideas and for once he was completely shocked. When he was once again able to speak he was only able to utter a faint :

"What!"

to which Harry smiled faintly.

"He will try to recruit me at some point, I am too powerful for him to just ignore. At the latest when either one of my seventh years joins him or the parents of one of my students, would he have noticed me. This way at least I have drawn his attention to me at my terms.

Do not fear, I will never join him. And therefor I have to make it clear to him, that even though I will remain neutral I am not on the side of the Light.

I have to remain neutral at all costs, the moment I enter the battle it will be lost to all not only the side that was against me.

Your son has told you what I am, he will agree with me that I can not join this war. I am not sure how many battles I could fight, how many friends I could see fall before I would loose control over myself. If I, Thanatos, would loose control – nothing Voldemort could do would be worse than what I would do should I loose my control over myself.

Both sides have to know that I will not fight their war for them."

Marcello had paled as he heard that Harry, calm collected Harry was the feared Thanatos. Yes, his son had told him that he suspected that Harry was Thanatos but he had not been able to imagine that his sisters grandson was that most feared, most vicious Guardian. All he was therefor able to say was a repeat of his earlier words:

"You are playing with fire, child... but than you contain within yourself the fires of hell..."

At that image Harry had to laugh out loud. Never had anyone ...dared... to say something like that to him but he could not deny the truth of that statement, he did contain the fires of hell... and should he loose control the earth would burn beneath him. That thought immediately sobered him, yes the world would burn when he failed and allowed himself to be draw into a battle that was not yet his.

Slowly Harry walked over to the cabinet in which he stored his alcoholics, several bottles of firewhiskey the twins had given him for his eighteenths birthday - much to the anger of their mother – as well as some bottles of wine and other liqueurs he had bought when he had started his teaching position. Questioning he held up a bottle of old muggle whiskey, asking Marcello if he also wanted some or would prefer something else.

In the short time he had spend in the past Harry had found that he often turned to alcohol for comfort, missing the opportunity to be comforted by his friends. True, he could talk to both Gawain and uncle Nicki freely but they were neither Hermione, nor Ron or the twins. He knew that he should not drink, he knew that it had been wrong to get drunk when he had finally acknowledged his feelings for Bellatrix and he knew that it was wrong to try to drink away the depression that was alarmingly fast building up inside of him – but he had yet to find an other way and tried to tell himself that it was not wrong when he drank now or then one or two glasses.

Marcello was worried as he saw his young relative walk over to his liqueur-cabinet. He knew what Harry was doing, he himself had done the very same thing when his father had killed Narwa. He tried to drink just enough to appear un-bothered by the events. Yet he also knew that it was not working. How hard must it be to allow others to fight, knowing that oneself would be able to make a difference – but also knowing that that could possible destroy mankind?

"It is not helping, isn't it?"

He asked, not really expecting an answer therefor he was quite astounded when Harry spoke.

"No, it isn't and I am not even sure if I want it to help. I have seen to many drunks and I hated ever single one of them – yet here I am, standing before a cabinet full with all different kinds of alcoholics. I don't even drink often and I have only been drunk two times in my life and that were two times to many still I find in moments like these that they are the safest comfort."

Cynically he continued that line of thought, thinking that it was at least safer than leaving Hogwarts to hunt down Voldemort before he could come to his full power. It hurt to see his parents, Remus, Sirius – and even Peter alive, healthy and happy. It hurt to know that when he returned he would have nothing but memories, knowing that he could have prevent all their pain by acting. Each day he asked himself if it had been the right choice to go back to the past, each night he had nightmares of what would happen in the future, of what he could prevent from happening. He sometimes saw Neville standing on the beds of his insane parents and he felt a terrible ache in his heart at the knowledge that he may be able to prevent that from happening, all the while knowing that he would do nothing to prevent it. Would his friends hate him when he returned and they learned that he could have created a brighter future? Or would they understand that he could have done nothing without destroying what he knew would, should happen?

He hated not being able to act, to have to sit back and allow events to unfold themselves without his intervention. Yes, he had already changed something by accepting Bellatrix proposal but then neither Fawkes nor Horus had stopped him and both knew what was to happen in the future.

Without taking a glass himself he walked back to Marcello and placed the glass of whiskey before him, conjuring himself a hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream.


	25. An Eldar's blessing

A little side-note before I start with the new chapter: up till now Harry hasn't changed a single thing about the time-line! Everything he has done was already done in the past before he went back.

Isn't it nice of me to update so fast?

**Back to the future: 25**

Marcello greeted Harry's change in evening-drink with a praising nod but didn't acknowledge it otherwise. As there were no classes the next day for which Harry had to be attentive he decided that it would be best to start Harry's education the same evening – or rather night.

"Soon you will start your own family and as your elder it is therefor my duty to pass all the knowledge I have about your bloodlines on to you. Your fathers line, the house of Andrews, while old and quite wealthy and at times even quite powerful, has no hidden secrets, no none-human blood and also no none-magical blood. It is about your mothers blood-lines I have to talk to you."

Marcello gave absolutely no indication that he had seen Harry's questioning frown as he sipped on his whiskey before continuing.

"We Borgia are proud and noble, sly and cunning, we thirst for knowledge, we crave it and we are loyal to a fault, if we ever went to Hogwarts the Sorting-hat would be hard pressed to come to a decision on where to place us. Our family is old, one of the oldest in the Magical World as well as the none-magical. We have been there when both worlds were built and we will be there when they end.

The name Borgia stands for money, for influence, for murder, betrayal and deceit, in our history brothers have killed their sisters and sisters their brothers. Parents have murdered their children and children their parents. The name Borgia is feared by all those who do not understand. In the none-magical world our family has been called the first crime-family ever recorded and they right but they are also completely wrong.

A Borgia does not hesitate to spill blood, that of family or of strangers - but only twice in the history of our family has a Borgia spilled the blood of an innocent.

The blood of the Borgia is the purest blood found among humans. Not in the sense the Malfoy or Black take the word but in the sense of Magic. Even in the none-magical line of our family flows magic that is purer than that in those lines that call themselves pure-blooded. We are not fully human. Every other generation a Borgia finds himself unable to withstand the pull that lays in our blood and has been passed down from the beginning of our line, not humans founded our house but one of the Eldar. It is their blood that gives us our strength, our purity – but also our weakness."

Hearing this Harry was no longer able to hold onto himself and blurted out:

"You mean like the Elves in Tolkien's books? Immortal and with pointed ears?"

A low chuckle escaped Marcello at the incredulous voice of the young man, still smiling he answered Harry's question:

"Yes, like those Elves though they prefer to be called Eldar as they call themselves. Tolkien was a historian who discovered some of the old texts. Yet when he published them none in the none-magical world took them for something else than fiction. Of course hardly anyone magical read them...

As I was saying before you interrupted me, our family has been tied to the Eldar since its very beginning and while it was not founded by one of the Ancients it is still quite old. Our house survived empires and wars, every imaginable gift has been found in our house as you can see at your self and my oldest son.

In you the blood flows stronger than in most of our house as you have inherited through both my sister and her husband. My mother was one of the Eldar and very young for her race, younger in fact than the husband of my sister, your grandmother...

Many generations before, one of our ancestors killed an Eldar, believing him responsible for the death of his youngest child, a death that had been, as was later found out, an accident in which the Eldar had tried to help and save the life of the child. Yet that was discovered only after the Eldar had been killed. His brother came to revenge his death, challenging our ancestor to a duel which was lost to our house as was our ancestor. As a warning this tragedy was passed on through history as was the name of the surviving brother.

When Imogene was eighteen she fell in love – with the very same Eldar who had killed our ancestor. Our father forbid her a marriage with Narwa, even going so far as to ordering her to never see him again. Not long after that Imogene ran away. Only twice after she left our home have I seen her, once at her wedding and once when she called me that our father had found them and mortally wounded Narwa. It was on that occasion that she bound her powers and the powers of her unborn child, in fact I helped her bind them. Dying Narwa spoke an ancient blessing of his people, securing his powers in his blood till the day a child would be born to his family that resembled him, either in appearance or in mannerism but always in the purity of their soul. While you do not have the fiery red hair of Narwa you have his mannerism and you have his pure soul. This blessing can be passed on to your children when you die protecting them. It will not redirect curses but everyone who intends harm will be unable to touch your child on the penalty of their own death.

Many a powerful wizard and witch has tried themselves on so called Blood-Wards and Blood-Protection but nothing a human wizard or witch can cast comes even close to the power a blessing of the Eldar such as Narwa's invokes. At its weakest no one who wants harm to the ...focus... of such a blessing can enter a warded area, at its strongest even the thought of doing harm to the focus will cause the attacker great pain. The blessing grows stronger with every positive feeling someone who is related by blood to the person who gave the blessing, directs at the focus. If the focus is loved by those who share the blood of the giver, every positive feeling directed towards him or her will fuel the blessing. The only way for the blessing too loose its effect would be if the focus was harmed by his or her blood in such a severe way that he or she would be no longer able to bear the thought of being related to them by blood.

Where that ever to be the case than the blessing would turn into a curse to those who should have provided the love and protection, killing them slowly with every harmful though or action they direct at the focus.

The blessing Narwa bestowed on his children is the greatest gift one of his race could possibly give. If he hadn't already been dying this blessing would have taken his life, no matter how healthy he would have been, his immortality as well as his life would have been spend. He gave his life, his soul, his very essence in this blessing that will be carried on as long as his blood-line exists and the criteria of the blessing are met."

* * *

Shocked Harry stared at Marcello, if what his great-grandfather had just told him was true – and he had no doubt that it was – he wouldn't have had any problems with Voldemort or the Ministry, or Malfoy and Snape for that matter, if his aunt had loved him! His mind told him that it shouldn't surprise him that his aunt had felt absolutely no love for him, that it shouldn't hurt as much as it did but the pain he was feeling at that thought was almost physical. Was the only reason his aunt, uncle and cousin hadn't gone any further in their abuse because they knew what repercussions it would have for them when he was no longer able to call them their family? Did they really hate him so much that it didn't matter to them if he lived or died, was the only reason why they had not found a way to dispose of him because they feared for their own life's? He was not sure if he even wanted to know the answer to that question, if he wanted the prove to what he already knew. Yet he knew that someday he would ask his aunt why she had such a hatred towards him and his mother.

With worry Marcello observed as Harry grew continuously paler, the more he spoke of the blessing of the Eldar. He was able to see the exact moment when Harry started to feel physical pain and started immediately to call him by his name. Only after a few minutes did Harry react, his eyes darkened with pain and confusion.

"Take deep breaths, Harry. Let go of all of your emotions, may they be positive or negative, clear your mind of all thoughts and just concentrate on my voice. Let everything go and just listen to me. I don't know what caused this reaction in you but I know what kind of reaction it is. No matter what you are thinking about, I am certain that it is not worth the pain you feel!

You experience one of the curses, of the weaknesses that come with our blood. When you look at our family history you will find that every single Borgia followed his or her spouse only days later to their death. It is not a conscious decision we make, it is in our blood. When our other half dies we are no longer able to live – or if we do we will have lost half of our-selves. We fade from grief, your life-force will simply flee our body. Strong emotional pain has the same effect on us as you seem to find out at this moment. Yet what you are now experiencing is just a fraction of the pain you will feel in the first moments of your spouses death.

When my mother found out what my father had done to Imogene, which pain he had caused her she started to fade and nothing could stop her death. She knew what pain my sister was feeling at the death of her beloved Narwa and that she was unable to fade because she was with child. It was this knowledge and the knowledge that it was her own husband, my father that had caused his daughter that pain that took her life. Only a month later my father had followed her to death.

I can see that the pain is leaving you, allow yourself to feel again, to think again but keep in mind that whatever caused you the pain is not worth dying for. Only your children or your spouse might be worth your life. Never allow guilt to consume you, it could and most likely _will_ kill you.

An other weakness that flows in our veins is the anger. It takes much to anger an Eldar but once their anger is awakened nothing can stop the boiling hatred, the thirst for revenge even the blood of the one who caused the anger. It was our family that caused the term "seeing red", if we allow our anger to rule ourselves blood will flow.

On a lighter note our curiosity is also a family-trait as is our nearly unending ability to love. For those we love we will do everything, if it is dying or killing."

The chime of a clock interrupted Marcello and after a quick glance at his own pocket-watch he declared that it was too late to speak of anything else and that Harry might want to go to bed as he had to be present for breakfast even though it was weekend. As it was already so late Harry invited him to spend the night and the next day at the castle, knowing quite well that that would not be well received by the headmaster but he did not have the strength to care.

Laying in his bed Harry realised for the first time what had happened to him after Sirius had died. Till the headmaster had visited him he had continuously felt weaker with each passing day. Every breath he had taken had hurt, every heartbeat had been agony. Uncle Albus had told him later that he had feared to be to late, that Harry was dying, that he was simply giving up. Was that what fading was like? Would he have really died from the grief and guilt about Sirius death?

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was not amused, far from it, when two elegant men entered the Great Hall before breakfast even started. Had he thought that the visit of Marcello VIII was bad he had not counted on Harry bringing the patriarch of the Borgia to Hogwarts, even worse at a time the school was in session and all students were able to see him. Marcello VII looked much like his son, only his hair had a few grey streaks in it. Both of the men, Harry as well as Marcello were clad in identical dark grey robes that left no doubt about their wealth. Yet while Marcello wore his hair open Harry was for once sporting a teachers-braid, something that was in no way able to conceal his true status in the Wizarding world.

Most students noticed the stranger immediately as they entered, some paling briefly as they recognised just who the guest was that was talking quietly with their Defence Professor. It were four young Gryffindor students, first years, who broke the stifling silence that hung over the hall when they hurried into the hall, as usually as one of the last. At first they did not seem to notice that a guest was present till young Peter Pettigrew glanced up at the Head Table and saw a foreign face among his professors. With a few words and nudges he altered his three dorm-mates and friends to the stranger. A single word, spoken by a boy with unruly black hair shattered the silence and invoked a whisper that would carry for weeks to come through the school:

"Grandpapa!"

Harry had to suppress a smile at James outburst that was so seldom seen in a Borgia – but than he was also a Potter. Marcello only gave a nod and smile to his daughters son and continued eating as if nothing unusual had happened. He ignored all the awed, fearful, scorning and even jealous whispers of the students, knowing that that was something James had to handle for himself as he was the one who had invoked that feelings with his outburst. There was no doubt within him that by the evening everyone within the school and most of Wizarding Britain would remember that his daughter had married the head of the House of Potter and in a few more days they would also learn that Harry Andrews was his great nephew. Once again the name Borgia would be talked about in the Wizarding World, their history would be remembered and the fear of them renewed. Yet there would be no useless gossip, no one would dare to talk that way about them, no, the fear would hinder them. In a few weeks, months at the most the wizarding world would move on to new topics, even if it was only out of the fear of drawing the attention of the Borgia to them.

With amusement the professors and some of the older students watched as James was barely able to keep seated after he had seen that his grandfather was at the school. Many of them stayed even after they had eaten to see what would happen, how their guest would act around the young Gryffindor. As if sensing their curiosity the head of the house of Borgia remained in his seat long after he had finished his meal, slowly drinking a cup of coffee. Finally it was their youngest Professor who made an end to the waiting as he stood up and waited for his guest to follow his lead. Together they walked over to the Gryffindor table where James was waiting for them. While Marcello remained at the Gryffindor table Harry walked over to the Slytherins seeking his young fiancée out.

"Miss Black, would you be so kind to come to my office today at five thirty?"

Only when Bellatrix had accepted his invitation did Harry walk over to his two relatives and walked together with them and James three dorm-mates out of the Great Hall, the whispering flaring up as soon as they had passed the doors.


	26. Headaches

Chapter 26

Lost in thought Harry walked through his room. All his doubts were back but he knew that he had long passed the point were he could turn away. Was he really in love with Bellatrix or did he just fancy her innocent beauty – or worse yet did he just pity her for the future he knew she would have? Marcello had told hiom that it would be enough to save her from the future he knew she would have – but would it really be enough? He was not sure what it was that he felt for her but he was now sure that it was not love, at least not yet.

And how could it be love? He barely knew her, had only known her as an insane murderer, a person he hated. Then he had met her as a young beautiful girl, innocent and still sane… and had started to develop some feelings for her. The smile on her face and the glittering in her eyes when he had given her a promise-ring had worked for him just like a cold shower would have: She was still a child! A school girl and he was her teacher. He liked her, that he knew for sure but would that be enough? Would it b enough to lead a happy marriage, to prevent her from turning to Voldemort?

Fawkes had told him that he knew that he would accept her parents proposal – didn't that mean that he had also accepted it the last time he had travelled back in time? Was he the reason why Bellatrix Black had turned to Rudolphus Lestrange and Voldemort? Had he not been able to love her enough and she had turned to someone else for love? Would it be his fault that Nevills parents…

A burst of flames interrupted his thoughts as Fawkes materialised before him. The phoenix didn't speak to him but just stared for long endless moments into his eyes before he held out his right claw, presenting him with a scroll of parchment. With a weary sight did Harry take the scroll, knowing very well what the Headmaster would want from him. Laying the scroll down Harry turned to Fawkes while he walked over to his door:

"I will walk there."

Why, why had he never thought of the possibility that he might be the reason that Bellatrix turned dark? Could he really be so much like Voldemort to think to be able to change the time-line? The headmaster had told him before he went to the past that he had already been there, that he remembered him from the past –so how could he have been so naïve to believe that he could save her! Yet there was nothing he could now do, he had signed the contract that bound him to Bellatrix Black and had even given her a promise-ring: if he would now break that contract she would turn to her parents, the Malfoys and the Lestranges for comfort and would hate him and everything he cared for. Yet even if he would continue to woe her he could fail…

Without noticing it he had arrived at the Gargoyle that allowed him as usual entrance without a password. He didn't even knock or wait to be asked in but opened the door as soon as he had arrived:

"You wanted to speak me, headmaster."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had looked up from the book he had been readig as soon as he had felt that someone had passed the Gargoyle that was guarding his office. He had had no doubt that it would be Harry Andrews as he was the only one who could pass without a password, something that alarmed him to no small part. Only an hour had passed since a painting of a dancing pair had informed him that a student had left the quarters of the new defence professor, a promise-ring on her hand. 

In a single day Harry Andrews had achieved what others tried for their whole time at Hogwarts: to be the sole thing at Hogwarts that was talked about – and it was not even the first time that he had achieved it. Every single student and teacher – and even most of the ghosts would talk for weeks about nothing else than the two Borgias at school and the fact that Harry Andrews, one of the two Borgias, had given a promise-ring to one of his students.

When he had sent Fawkes to the young professor he had planned to sclod him for his behaviour but as he looked at the man that had just entered his office he changed his mind: Harry Andrews looked far from happy, not at all like a man who had just promised the girl he loved that he would marry her in a few years. Observing him he decided that Harry looked defeated and tired. Looking at him he recognised for the first time of whom Harry reminded him amongst others: besides the eyes of Reginald Andrews, his supposed father, and the face structure of Marcello Borgia, did Harry have the mouth of Henry Potter. He had the same smile, the same mischievious grin – and the same lines of defeat Henry had had after the murder of his parents and sister. Yet that was impossible! Besides Henry James was the last born Potter and Henry had no other relatives that were close enough to bear any resemblance to him. But looking at Harry he was absolutely certain that he was a Potter and not only an Andrews and Borgia as he had said.

"I have no doubt," interrupted Harry his musings, "that you called me here because someone or something told you of the promise I made towards one of my students. While I can understand if you don't like the circumstance that I have such interests in one of my students I can ensure yiu, that I will not favour her in any way. Besides that do I know, that I am not the first professor at Hogwarts who had a relationship with one of his students so absolutely nothing speaks against it – which is all you need to know about it, headmaster."

Fascinated Albus Dumbledore watched Harry as he defendet his actions and told him in no uncertain words to mind his own business. Though he had to conceed that the young man in front of him was absolutely right, as long as Harry didn't favour Miss Black he as the headmaster couldn't do anything against them.

"When will the engagement take place?" he asked instead, hoping that it would not be too soon.

"As soon as Miss Black has finished Hogwarts and the wedding will take place two years later. If either she or I are unable to remain professional within the classroom she will transfere to Beaubaxton or any other school besides Durmstrang." Seeing the headmasters inquiering gaze Harry explained his last words: "Bellatrix will not learn anymore of the Dark Arts if I can prevent it, she already knows far to much. Never, never will she lear the Unvorgiveables or truly evil magic."

A doubting smile flickered over Albus Dumbledores face as he heard Harrys words: "You want to forbid her to learn what you know? Don't you trus her? – or do you only want to have that kind of power over her?"

The pain that flickered for moments through Harrys eyes let the headmaster almost regret his words, but he ould not stop his wish to provoke the younger man into revealing at least one of his many secrets.

"As long as her parents have the chance to tell her that that kind of magic is more worth than light magic will I try everything from preventing her from learning it. Was that all headmaster? Iam rather tiered and would like to go to bed."

* * *

Harry was not sure why he was so …snappish …towards the headmaster but he felt that he had to leave, that he needed rest. That feeling had started even before Bellatrix had come to his office. Something told him, that he should know what was happening with him but as much as he tried he could not explain what he was feeling. 

A sudden sharp pain in his forehead let his hand fly to the place where his scar should be. He did not notice that he doubled over in pain as panic filled him, panic that Voldemort would know that he had a conection to him. In his mind he called out to Fawkes who was watching him carefully.

_No, young one, he has no connection to you. His side of the connection has not yet formed: you will be able to see through his eyes and into his mind but the pain you will feel will be greater than what you were used too as he is still gaining power in this time._

_I am sorry, but there is no way to stop these attacs, you will have them till you return to your own time._

Cool dry fingers that touched his forehead brought Harry finally out of his pain-induced stupor and he looked up questingly into the concerned blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore. For seconds a new wave of panic rushed through him as he searched for a way to explain his …unusual… behaviour to the headmaster. In no way could he tell him the truth but what lie would be believeable enough for the headmaster to leave him alone?

"Child, are you able to sit up so that I can call Poppy?"

dimly Harry registered the words of the headmaster as a new wave of pain let his head explode.

…_why are you telling me only now of the contract?… could have taken him already…_

Pictures of pale, almost shaking Blacks and an angry Voldemort filled Harrys vision as he tried to concentrate on the headmaster and Fawkes. The pain he felt was more intense than the visions he was used to from his own time and he almost wished to leave this place, this time were the murderer of his parents was still gaining control – and he could do nothing against him. He felt as the headmaster leaned him against his chair and saw as he called Poppy. He didn't want to see her – but he could do nothing against it. After a few attacs of that intensity he would be used to them, just as his body had grown used to the attacs he had had in his own time… but till then he would be once again at the mercy of all those concerned and pitying looks, words and actions. Short of killing Voldemort or sending him back to his own time there was nothing that could be done for him, yet both could not be done even when someone would be aware of those possibilities.

On days like that he hated his life! When he had killed Voldemort he had believed, that he would be forever free of such attacs and could finally live a normal life… only to find it a good idea to trave back in time, right back to a world where Voldemort was gaining power.

Sometimes he felt just like an idiot!

As Madame Pomphrey came a few minutes later Harry was already sitting in his chair and though his head was still pounding the pain had lessened to a strenght he was used to. While the headmaster and the nurse were alarmed about his attac he tried his best to play it down as nothing unusual.

"I told you that it was nothing to be worried about: I have had that problem since I was a few months old! There is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Poppy, I have already tried everything and I doubt that it will kill me…"

alarmed Harry stopped as he had said that, could he really be sure that Voldemort would not be able to kill him that way? Even if not directly then as a freak acident like making him loose control of a broom or something like that?

"Anyway, I'm tired and I would like to go to bed… my bed, not in the hospital wing!"

before either the headmast or Poppy could answer something Harry left hurriedly the room, hearing only faintly in his head an adwise from Fawkes:

_He can't reach Nyx!_

The next day Harry couldn't even remember how he reached his room or his bed, all he remembered was cursing himself for travelling through time. Without much success he tried to evade the concerned glances of Poppy and the headmaster, the only distraction came as the owls arrived with the post. A black regal looking owl swepped down to him, filling him with an unnamable dread.

* * *

Hi, I'm back! 


	27. Don't ask them to fight for you

Back to the future 27

He knew what that letter would contain, how could he not know after the vision he had had the day before. When his great grandfather had asked him why he had spoken so positively about the heir of Slytherin and if he tried to attract Voldemort's attention he had told him that that was exactly what he tried to do – now though he was no longer so sure about it. Not after he had felt what Voldemort could do to him, not after he knew that Voldemort could destroy his mind or even his life without even doing something against him.

He was afraid that he had made a terrible mistake in provoking such a reaction from Voldemort – yet at the same time he… needed…. him to know that he would not become one of his Death Eaters. Both sides had to understand that he would not – at least not openly – fight for them. There was no way for him to join the Order of the Phoenix but he would also not stand by and watch them being slaughtered for their foolishness!

Seemingly calm Harry finally opened the letter, finding the contents to be nearly exactly as he had expected it, only that he was invited to bring Marcello Borgia VII along with him. Around him the students and teachers were standing up – and the only answer, the only consolation for his problem was just looking at him with his baby-blue eyes. Those not watching missed the minute nod Harry gave the headmaster as he stood up to follow him up to his office.

"What can I do for you, child, I trust you feel well?"

the second part of the question was laced with honest concern and made Harry remember why the other man would in his own time take the place of a grandfather for him. With a nod and a smile Harry gave him his answer while he accepted both a cup of tea and a lemon drop.

"Yes, no pain has remained – as usually – and I am only a little bit more tired than usual as I have barely been able to sleep … but that is not the reason why I asked to see you: As I am sure you have noticed did I receive a letter this morning. My… future parents in law … as well as Mr Blacks older brother and wife, have invited me to a dinner party in honour of "Lord Slytherin". They also mentioned that a special guest would be present. I have absolutely no doubt that this guest will be Voldemort."

* * *

For a long time Albus Dumbledore watched his youngest professor pensively. Since the day the young man had so foolishly worn his robes of declaration had he feared the moment in which the child would come into contact with Voldemort. He had tried to tell himself that nothing important would happen at such a meeting, that he was only afraid of the consequences the meeting would have for Hogwarts – and that he was not terrified to loose the young man he had started to care about.

"And what do you plan to do about this invitation?" he would not voice his fears, none of them!

How could Harry Andrews be so calm? How could such a young man be so in control of his emotions? At some times he was hard pressed not to feel uneasy in the company of the young man – as was the case then.

"I will of course follow the invitation and spend a nice evening praising Lord Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four , and of course his heirs. No, can't forget about his heir.

Hopefully I will make an outstanding impression on Voldemort so that he will invite me to become one of those who kiss the hem of his robes. Wouldn't want to miss such an opportunity for all the gold in Gringotts!"

For the first time since he had met Harry Andrews was Albus Dumbledore able to see clearly the Borgia in the otherwise so peaceful young man. Already had he decided for himself to forget that the child was a Borgia and also related in some way to Reginald Andrews, when he just had to be reminded of those …unsavoury… relations. It would be so much easier too like the man as "just" Harry. Not Harry Andrews or even Harry, member of the house of Borgia.

Harry he could see as a grandson but this calculating ensnaring predator?

Tom Riddle, Voldemort, had also been able and was able to ensnare people with his charm but it had been an overly sweet…sticky… charm that reeked of deceit and evil. Not like the Borgia's, like Harry's charm. When Harry allowed his charm to play, even when he acted - like he was then doing – like a deadly predator, nothing, not even the knowledge that it would bring forth your destruction, could stop you from following him. The lure that he created in such moments was at the same time dark and light, terrifying and reassuring… but never evil.

As all wizarding children Albus Dumbledore had been raised with tales of the Borgia. He had been taught to respect and fear them. Of course, when he had grown older he had lost most of those fears – but as he sat then in front of Harry he understood what his parents had tried to warn him of.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed Harry's next words.

"I almost can't wait to see his face when he learns, that while honoured, I couldn't possible accept his invitation."

The glee in Harry's voice was almost child-like and presented one of the rare occasions where his true age became apparent. But only seconds later the playfulness vanished out of his voice as he continued: "You expected me to be afraid – or to take the chance and join him, didn't you, headmaster?

After all I am engaged to a Black, member of the Borgia and heir to Reginald Andrews – not to forget that I know a great deal of the Dark Arts… Tell me headmaster," Harry's voice grew lower and slower as he continued, as if he was trying to savour every word he was about to speak, " tell me, what would you do if I were to accept an eventual offer – and join Lord Voldemort?"

Silence reigned in the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts as soon as those words had been spoken. With a blank expression Albus Dumbledore stared at the young man whom he held in such high regards. How could he ask such a question? How could he even dare to think of something like that? Of course he had often proclaimed that he would never join a Dark Lord – but then why would he ask such a question?

"I would ban you from Hogwarts – and if I ever were to find you performing one of the unforgivables I would see to it that you are stopped. I have fought against one Dark Lord and I will fight against those who will follow the same path!"

* * *

Disappointment filled Albus Dumbledore's voice as he answered Harry's question. It pained but also reassured Harry to hear those words out of the mouth of his mentor. If he ever should loose control over himself, if he ever lost himself to hate and revenge he knew that he would be stopped. With a soft smile he took a second lemon drop and allowed himself to watch Fawkes preening himself.

"Thank you!" he nearly whispered as he allowed himself to relax into the chair, "I had hoped that you would say something along those lines, headmaster. My greatest fear is that I could become dark, evil, like Voldemort. I would never follow him – but become like him… Yet as long as I know that you would stand against me and would not tolerate any wrong behaviour I can be assured that at least I would not be able to cause much damage before you stopped me."

Pausing for a moment Harry continued hesitantly:" I may never be able to become evil in the way that Voldemort or any other Dark Lord is evil, but as the saying goes, "the way to hell is paved with good intentions"… I would be able to do terrible things while trying to right a wrong – or while seeking revenge.

On the other hand I will not be able to openly fight against Voldemort, no matter how much I would wish to, any intervention from me could cause far greater damage than good."

Changing the subject he continued:

"Did you know that almost all of my Defence teachers tried to kill me at one point or the other? I mentioned it to Charles when we first met. Maybe that was the reason why it became my favourite subject, because I had to teach it myself and I had to learn it to be able to survive. My name provokes many reactions, fear, awe, hate, respect – but also disgust and almost everyone only sees the name, not the person behind it. It has gotten worse now, that my relation to the Borgia is known and I fear that someday even that will pale when my other ancestors are known…

You know, not all Borgia are as bad as our reputation indicates. Of course from time to time there have been some …more…. Violent members of the family – but that have happened in every old family. What most forget over these tales of horror is that the Borgia are one of the most tolerant houses in both the muggle and wizarding world. When my relation to them was discovered they accepted me without any questions or doubts, I was one of their own and therefore I was treated just like the rest of them. They don't care about blood or money, dark or light, as long as you stand by the family. When we came back from the Blacks my uncle scolded me for speaking so positively about the heir of Slytherin – no matter what you might hear about the Borgia in this coming years, remember that all of them support the light side.

My uncle was invited to join me at the dinner party and while I don't doubt that he would accompany me I do not want him to do it. I may stay on Voldemorts good side while still declining an eventual offer but I am not sure how he would react if the house of Borgia would stand openly against him. Therefore I ask you not to approach him or any other Borgia to join in a coming conflict with Voldemort – even though I have no doubt that every single Borgia is a formidable foe I have no wish to find out just how many Death Eaters it will take to destroy them."

* * *

An almost calculating light flickered through Albus Dumbledores eyes as he contemplated the request of his young professor. It was reassuring to know, that one of the most powerful and influential – if not the most influential – house in wizarding Europe was firmly set against the Dark, though the request to leave them out of an eventual coming fight with the Dark was slightly dampening the good fortune.

"If Voldemort would ever rise to power I would not ask your family to fight, that I can promise you – though I will not refuse their help if they should offer it."

At that moment Harry knew that , no matter what he did, he could not change the course of the future.


	28. Meet thy enemy

**Chapter 28**

With a frown Harry stood before his wardrobe and mused how easy life had been while living with the Dursleys. There he had not had the problem of choosing the right thing to wear – simply because he only had owned few pieces of clothing. Now though he had to worry about choosing just the right robes to wear. He could wear nothing in the colours of the Potters or Borgias and he did not want to wear once again "Andrews coloured" robes. Yet the colours of Narwa, his only remaining ancestor – besides Slytherin and Gryffindor – contained the colours of almost all houses of Hogwarts. Sighting he ran his hand over his robes, not certain if he should choose a black, a silver or a coloured robe. Most of his robes he discarded without a second thought as unfitting for the situation but five he picked out and lay out on his bed. Each of them had been chosen for him by his grandmother, each of them woven out of the hair of mermen and all but one were so dark that they appeared at first glance to be black which one indeed was. The other four though were dark blue, dark green, dark red and the last one of a light silver, the same silver his glove was. Turning back to his wardrobe he picked out vests and shirts in the same colours, his trousers would be black – at least with them he knew the colour and had only to decide on the cut…

Nearly an hour later Harry was still frowning at his outfit when he decided that he was completely helpless when it came to fashion. Scowling he went to the fireplace in his living room and called his great-grandfather. Why, why hadn't he been raised like Draco Malfoy who had from childhood on been taught what to wear!

With a grin Marcello VIII stepped minutes later out of the fireplace: he had heard from his sister and father how much the younger man…. feared formal robes – but he had not believed them till he took the firecall for his father who was in a meeting. His grin widened at the half scowling half pleading face of Harry who was only dressed in a dressing gown.

After only ten minutes Marcello presented the younger man with a complete outfit and a few additions. Picking up one of the daggers that he had placed on the bed Harry turned to his cousin who spoke even before the other had the chance to ask:

"Borgia daggers. Every one of us has a set of them; yours are currently made so I brought you two of mine. They respond only to someone with the blood of a Borgia – everyone else will receive a nasty surprise when touching them. Anyone – besides a Borgia – will die from the smallest cut made by the blade: it is both cursed and poisoned. Wear them till you have your own, only those who have seen them and know that you are wearing them will be able to see or detect them with a spell."

The mischievous glint in Marcello's eyes was the only warning Harry got before the other snapped at him to get dressed.

While Harry dressed in the robes he had chosen for him Marcello took his time observing the young man who was young enough to be his own son. He knew so little about his cousin's son – and what he knew had the ability if not to frighten him so at least to earn his respect and advice him to be cautious. Every time he looked into those green eyes he saw death, not Thanatos but death Harry had witnessed. What had this young man, this boy, seen that even he, who … worked with the dead shuddered at the mere thought? Of course only those strong enough, either in mind, will, feelings or body, could survive in Thanatos presence but normally only those sought out the Guardian and Harry managed most of the time to completely suppress his … other self. No-one who was weak could stand the presence of the Guardian, no matter which of the four it was. But apparently children had no such problems – otherwise Harry would have been within a day the most feared professor.

"What should I do with my hair?"

Marcello's first impulse was to tell him to cut it – till he remembered that Harry was indeed already the head of a family, even though he was still so young.

"Wear it open," he answered finally, "be careful to have it always fall down your back, even if you should lean forward. Should it fall over your shoulder never! use your hands to push it back but move your head slightly so that it falls back on its own but try to avoid it as much as possible: it looks rather ridiculous.

Don't drink more than two glasses of wine and only one glass of anything else alcoholic – and drink the potion I placed on the table. It prevents almost all poisons from working as well as all known mind-controlling or weakening potions. The potion will last for ten hours and through a tingling in your stomach you will know when you have been given a potion or poison. Do not react if that should be the case, let them believe what they want, the potion is a family secret and only useful as long as no one outside the family knows of its existence, let them continue in their believe that we have grown immune to poisons.

Let the others do the talking, listen and watch. Don't try to be funny or nice: show them with as few words as possible that you are powerful and not to be played.

Do under no circumstances allow yourself to be drawn into any alliances or political scheming: you are a Borgia and stand above such things and you don't want to join a group of Blood-purists.

And be back by midnight"

Gaping Harry stared at his great uncle/cousin:

"Be back at midnight? Are you sure you are talking to me?"

For a fleeting moment Harry believed to see a red tinge on the others cheeks before it vanished: "That is what I tell my sons – you are young enough to be one of them so I will treat you that way. At least as long as you need help choosing your cloths!"

* * *

Schooling his face into a blank mask, Harry apparated to Grimmauld Place. He would have to be careful not to show that he knew the house- at least he knew that Kreacher hadn't recognised him in the future.

In a few moments he would meet Voldemort, talk with him, eat with him. Two future enemies united for the first – and hopefully – last time under one roof, at one table. For one evening he was forced to swallow his hate and pretend to be fascinated by the older wizard. How did Voldemort look? Did he still look as handsome as he had with sixteen or had the evil magic already corrupted his body? During his vision he had been in too much pain to do more than recognise Voldemort, his face he could not remember.

Even though he clearly felt someone following him did he not turn around but strode confidently up to the house, his open black cloak billowing like a cape behind him. With his elegant cane in his hand he would have looked as if he were on his way to a mask ball – or simply in the wrong century – if he had also worn a cylinder. With the silver, green eyed phoenix head that posed as the head of his cane Harry rapped three times on the door, foregoing the bell completely. The younger Mrs Black, his future mother in law, answered the door, welcoming him sweetly before ordering Kreatcher to take his cloak. His cane he was allowed to keep as some wizards – like Lucius Malfoy in the future - kept their wands stored in a cane. Almost no wizard used any other weapon than a wand, at least not anymore, so no-one would guess that his wand did indeed contain an épée, a poisoned épée.

* * *

He had heard much about the young Andrews that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. But when the young man entered the room at the side of Calpurnia Black he was …shocked. If not for his young face he would have believed him to be several years older, years that his eyes seemed to have already seen.

When he had learned that the head of the Borgia had declined the invitation he had been displeased but even he did not (yet) dare to oppose the Borgia – after all they reached far more back than even the line of Slytherin.

With his almost red eyes he assessed the man that was completely dressed in silver, not grey but clear, shimmering silver. His eyes glid over the silver-gloved hand, to the shimmering dark silver trousers, the glittering silver robe and vest to the blue tinted shirt till they finally landed on the face of the Hogwarts professor. With a start he realised that he would look almost like the portrait of the young Salazar Slytherin if his eyes were less cat- and more snake-like. Even he himself didn't resemble his ancestor that much and he was the only remaining heir. When their eyes met the old Slytherin regretted for the first time that his eyes had turned red through his use of dark magic, once, years ago his eyes had also been Slytherin green. Though even then they had not been as Avada Kedavra green as Harry Andrews eyes were.

* * *

The moment he had entered the room he had felt his presence, the dull ache in his scar. Was his mothers' sacrifice active Harry asked himself with a start, would it react when he came too near to Voldemort or even touched him? He knew that it was love that protected him, love from someone of his mothers blood – but was there someone in this timeline that loved him like that? He knew that his mother, that little Lily Evans cared for him, that he was one of her favourite teachers, but would that be enough? Would be the affection the Borgias felt for him be enough? Did he even want for the protection to work during this time? Of course it would be rather easy to find out if the protection was working, he just had to touch the bastard – but what should he do if it indeed worked?

Not for the first time Harry cursed his luck – and his thoughtlessness – as his eyes connected with those of his mortal enemy. Almost nothing was left of the handsome sixteen year old he had seen in the Chamber of Secrets: the face looked gaunt, almost starved and the once green eyes were tinted scarlet, to a degree that only those who knew what colour they had once been were able to still see it. The only thing that had not changed was the hair; it still fell thick and black around his face.

* * *

Harry was sitting across the table from Voldemort and once again felt a tingling in his stomach as he drank from his wine. Without the potion Marcello had given him he would by now either be dead or completely helpless, completely at the mercy of his hosts – and Voldemort. Till now the conversations had been light and – if you overlooked the occasional retelling of muggle-baiting, torturing and even killing – rather pleasant. Now and then he felt the glances of his hosts that were growing wearier everytime he took a sip from his wine. He was also aware of the glances the Blacks exchanged and the faint scowl that had settled on Voldemorts face when he realised that whatever potion they were giving him did not work.

There was no doubt that he was a stranger in this group of Voldemorts most loyal servants. All of them were assembled, the parents of all those who had in his time been Death Eaters. The Lestranges, the parents of Rudolphus and Rabastan, Mrs Mulciber – her husband had died in an potions expeariment –, the Malfoys, though as he had only reacently learned not Lucius parents but his grandparents, what had happened to his parents he did not know, Rockwood, the one who was still a Death Eater in his time as well as others. Then there were the Blacks, all four of them.

Harry did not even try to hide that he was watching his future parents in law and Bellatrix aunt and uncle. What kind of people were they? What kind of parents could disown one of their daughters for marrying someone they did not approve of or marry an other daughter to someone who made her loose her mind – or in this timeline to her teacher, a man they did not even know? And Narcissa… Harry did not know what he should think of the youngest Black daughter. In his own time he had only met her thrice and each of the times he had only seen but never talked to her. To him she had appeared to be an arrogant, sutck up woman. Was she happy? Did she love Lucius Malfoy? He knew that she had loved her son Draco but that was almost all he knew about her. His opinion of the older Blacks was even worse than that of the younger, he disliked Sirius parents with a passion he had had formerly reserved only for Snape and Draco Malfoy. Not only had he been forced on several occasions to listen to the screams of Mrs Blacks portrait but he had heard also the few tales Sirius told about his parents. For Merlins sake he had run away from home after his fifth year because he could no longer stand his parents blood-purist behaviour.

For the frist time Harry realised that he knew almost nothing about Regulus. Yes, he knew that Regulus was younger than Sirius and that he had become a Death Eater only to be killed while trying to leave Voldemorts ranks. Regulus was Sirius brother, he had died even before he himself was born but still, shouldn't he know more about him? He had never asked Sirius or even Remus if Sirius had liked Regulus if even before their time at Hogwarts – but then he hadn't even known much about his own family. Next year Regulus would come to Hogwarts, maybe than he could learn more about the youngest Black.

"Mr Andrews, what is your opinion of the house of Slytherin?"

As soon as Voldemort had asked him the question all other conversations at the table dimmed, all eager to hear what he would answer. Opting for a safe´ answer Harry frowned slightly.

"I am still getting used to the house- system at Hogwarts: there are so many students who would get along very well if not for the fact that they are in different houses, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin. Of course I might be – and most likely am – the only one who finds the house rivalery at times ridiculous … but than I am also the only one who did not grow up with it. It is also rather entertaining to watch how much the students try to identify themswelves with their particular founder and justify their animosity towards the other houses with that of the founders while forgetting completely that the four were best friends.

Now the heirs of Slytherin… I dare to believe that they are all Salazar Slytherin prided himself to be: proud, powerful, cunning, ambitious, knowledgeable, tolerant and able to see who could be of use to them or whom to leave in peace as well as so much other things."

Waiting for a reaction from Voldemort to his words Harry remembered what Matrcello had said to him before he had left:

"_You are playing with fire, child. _

_Voldemort draws people to him like a flame ensnares moths. When they fly around the flame they might enjoy the light and warmth but if they get too near they will be burned alive. Voldemort will not give you warmth or even light Harry, he will give you death and darkness. Others might die when they get too close to him – no matter if he calls them followers or enemys – you on the other hand would not die. No Harry, you would be the last to die: if you get too close to this dark fire you would become death! Harry Andrews would die, burned like a moth, and Thanatos would rise, uncontrolled, powerfull and all consuming._

_Heed my words Harry: do not allow Voldemort too close to you, neither as an enemy nor as an ally. I was against your going to this dinner, I had hoped that you would never meet Voldemort, our whole family had hoped it, – but I know that you must go, that you have to face this challenge, not against Voldemort but against Thanatos, against yourself. There is no doubt for me that you, Harry, will win._

_Be careful child, you have the blessing of the Borgia and our thoughts will be with you."_

He knew that Marcello was right, more than once since he had entered the house had he felt the wish, the desire to allow himself to loose control over his other self. He wanted to kill Voldemort now that he had the chance, he wanted to end the two wars before they had even started, wanted to save all those who had died at Voldemorts hand or his order – and yet he knew that if he did what he wanted to do he would plunk the world into a greater darkness than Voldemort would ever create.

"You speak as if you have met the heir of Slytherin…"

Voldemorts voice held a clear warning, a warning that Harry nonetheless choose to ignore. With a slight smile playing around his lips he answered his future enemy.

"I believe I have."

For the first time Harry allowed one of his many wards to slip, for the first time since uncle Albus and uncle Nicky had taught him to acsess his full potential he allowed himelf to let some of him power show. Ever since that day in his sixth year when his two mentors had told him that he was most likely a mage had he suppressed most of his power. Not even when he had killed Voldemort had he allowed himself to use it but now… He only allowed the outermost of his walls to fall, the one that shielded only the last bit of Harry's power – Thanatos power he would never allow anyone who had not his full trust to see. While he spoke Harry met for the first time since they had sat down to eat Voldemorts eyes, trapping the scarlet tinted orbs in his own pulsating green ones. The others who were assembled at the table only saw that the smile had slipped nearly as soon as it had appeared from his face. For them it looked as if Voldemort was controlling this magicless duell, not knowing that their master was unable to do anything, not even to avert his eyes.

As Harry finally allowed Voldemort to avert his eyes he smiled at the other …man and inclined his head as if they had come to a silent understanding – and indeed they had.

* * *

He knew not if he should be forious or deadly afraid. Never before had someone been able to control him, to trap him like this Harry Andrews had been able to do just moments ago. There had been no threat in the others gaze, no anger, no fear, only a warning not to try to control him. He loathed the very thought to let go of such a powerful man – but than he also didn't want one with so much power in his ranks where he could possibly overthrow him. And he also didn't need an other powerful enemy, Dumbledore was enough. Oh yes, he knew that the old fool was still one of the most powerful wizards in the world – and it was true that he still held fear for him, fear because he was the only one who truly knew him. The gaze of Harry Andrews had also told him something else, the young man would not stand against him as long as he was left in peace. He had hoped to gain a new follower when he had forced the Blacks to hold this gathering, he had hoped that through the young man he would slowly gain control over Hogwarts – yet all he had gained was a silent supporter, someone with power and influence who would not stand behind Dumbledore. It was not what he had wanted, what he had hoped for but it was better than having the young man turn Hogwarts students against him.

Acknowledging the others…request Voldemort also inclined his head and realising the significance of the colour of the others clothing his lips curled into a sneer that could also be seen as a smile. Silver indeed! Neither light nor dark, not twisted by darkness, by dark magic but enchanted by it. Following an impulse Voldemort asked a question, wanting the answer purely to still his curiosity.

"What house do you believe you would have been placed in?"

"I do not have a guess on this matter, however I do know the answer the sorting hat had to this question: It would have been my choice. Whichever house I would have choosen I would have been placed in. However it told me that Slytherin would have helped me on my way to greatness."

Satisfied and also faintly unsettled Voldemort allowed himself to lean back in his chair. When he had placed the sorting hat on his head all those years ago there had been no doubt that he belonged in Slytherin and he knew that even if he had not been Slytherins heir he would have been placed into that house. He also knew that it was not unusual for the hat to propose more than one house to the student, often he mentioned also a second house – but never to his knowledge had the hat given the choice between Slytherin and Gryffindor! The two houses were the complete opposits of each other. Rawenclaw and Huffelpuff or those two and Gryffindor, even Slytherin and Rawenclaw. The more he learned of Harry Andrews the more he was puzzled by the young man. How could anyone fit all of the four houses of Hogwarts, how could one person meet two completely opposite requirements? Andrews looked no older than twenty and still… his eyes had looked just as old as Dumbledores when he had entered the room. Someday, Voldemort promised himself, someday he would unravel the mystery that was Harry Andrews.


	29. About more than power

**Chapter 29**

He was still tired and even slightly afraid when he walked under his invisibility-cloak to the headmaster's office. Following Marcello's "request" he had been back at midnight, but the gathering had left him unable to sleep for many hours.

"Good morning, Headmaster."

What had happened the day before had not been what he had expected – and that scared him. Voldemort now knew who he was and had even an idea – no matter that it was wrong – about how powerful he was. Ever since he had returned, he felt… he knew that it had been a terrible mistake to accept the invitation. Oh, he had been able to convince Voldemort that it was better to leave him alone but, as Marcello had warned him, Voldemort was not the problem, at least not directly. No, the problem was he himself. No longer was it a fight against Voldemort, he was fighting but against himself, against Thanatos; and he was not sure how often he had to meet Voldemort to lose control.

"I came to tell you that Voldemort made no direct attempt to get me to join him and that he will most likely ignore my existence as long as I ignore his."

It was not the false impression that Thanatos was evil that made him so afrait of his other self, no; Thanatos was not evil, far from it. He was Death but it was not that he took pleasure in dealing death – at least he thought that he would not. No, what he feared was Thanatos lack of regret when he took a life. He did it just as others would tie a shoelace: it was completely normal for him. Death was not only what he brought others, he _was_ Death, therefore it was not something that overly concerned him. Once, when he was a toddler, before Voldemort had tried to kill him, he had been one with Thanatos. During those short months he had seen no difference between the Guardian and himself, not because of his age, but because there had been no difference. If Voldemort had not been he would have grown up with Thanatos' knowledge, his power and his view of death. But he had not. For almost thirteen years he had been just Harry and the world had been without an aware Guardian, for as long as he was alive no one else could take his place. He had not awoken in the night he had stood before the veil, or rather he did not realise it in that night, Sirius death had been more important than the odd feeling he got from within himself. Only when he had been back at the Dursleys had he known that something about him was different – and he had believed that it was the prophecy. Every day he had known a little bit more about himself, had feared himself a little bit more. In the end it had been Remus whom he had told how he felt and the werewolf had told him what he knew about the guardians.

"Will you allow me to see your memories about the meeting?"

He had almost forgotten where he was, when he was.

"I do not know if you would be able to see what you want to see, but if you have a pensive?"

He would not think about Sirius and Remus; it was too painful to know that he could not change anything about their fate. What use was his time-travel if he could not even save those he loved? Yes, he got to know them, but he could not even tell them what they meant to him!

* * *

Lost in thought, Harry did not notice when the headmaster returned out of his pensive, giving Albus Dumbledore the chance to observe him. What he had just seen had shocked him, he was one of the few, maybe even the only one who knew Tom Riddle, or as he called himself, Voldemort. During all the years he had known the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, he had seen him curious only once and never had he seen the heir of Slytherin care about anyone else but himself. Of course, to say that Tom Riddle cared for young Andrews was a bit of a stretch, but it had been all to clear for him that the older man liked Harry Andrews just as much as he himself did – and that worried him greatly. Well, maybe Tom didn't like Harry in the same way, not as a son or grandson, but definitely more than anyone else that had been present at the meeting, more than he liked anyone else. And he had not even tried to conceal that fact.

He wanted to tell himself that he had misread Voldemorts' actions, or lack of them; wanted to tell himself that he was just imagining the impressions he had meant to read in the others eyes – but he could not. Ever since Tom Riddle had reappeared as Lord Voldemort, he had told himself that the other man had turned into a soulless monster, that there was no chance of redeeming him. Better yet, that he had always been a soul-less monster, even when he had first met him when he had told the, at that time, eleven-year-old wizard of magic and Hogwarts. He had seen curiosity in the eyes of the child, joy and even hope. After that day, all he had ever seen in the other's eyes was distrust and anger – if anything at all. Now though, he had once again seen the curiosity of a child in the eyes of a man whose darkness would soon rival that of the last Dark Lord. There was no doubt in his mind that soon he would stand against Voldemort, no longer fighting only against darkness or for the freedom of the wizarding-wolrd but also about Harry Andrews. Still observing the young man that sat opposite from him, he decided that he would not disclose his observations to him – at least not yet, not when the young man seemed to be still so innocent.

* * *

Almost a week had passed since he had met Voldemort, a week in which he had tried his best to forget the murderer of his parents – needless to say that it had not worked. Not even the fact that the four first year Gryffindor males had started pranking every other first year had been enough to distract him. When he had met Voldemort the first – or rather second time in his second year at Hogwarts the… spectre had told him that they were alike. At that time he had not been able to accept it and, even though Uncle Albus had pointed out the obvious similarities between the two, he had not believed him. Now though… now though he could no longer see Voldemort as just an enemy, someone he had to kill and would kill. No… now, after he had met him, he was for the first time able to see how similar the two of them really were.

Both of them had power, both of them craved power and, even though he told himself that he had no wish to dominate others, he knew that, at some level, he felt the need to be the one in control. What scared him was that it was not Thanatos who had this desire, but Harry. He, the human, wanted to be in control; not only of his own life, his own destiny, but also, to some extent, that of those around him. He wanted to know everything that was happening around him; he wanted to be able to make sure that no one he loved was getting hurt, wanted to be able to stop them from getting into any dangerous situations. Of course he knew that those desires were not necessarily wrong – but still, the fact remained that they would undermine the free will of his friends if he were to carry them through. He could also no longer see himself as a purely light wizard, far from it. He now knew that he had a dark side, a side he knew to hide from almost everyone. Oh, he was not and never would be able to cast the Unvorgivables or any Evil Magic but everything else… He was a Shadow Phoenix, that alone was proof enough that he did not entirely belong to the Light Side: while a Fire Phoenix like Fawkes could only heal with his tears, he could also kill – and his song could animate even the most peaceful creature to march into battle and fight till they lost conscious through exhaustion or were killed. No, for the Dark side he was light; but, for the Light side, the one that saw only his back while he stood before it, he was dark, or at least grey. The only thing that really set him apart from Voldemort was his intentions; he would never be the first to draw a weapon, he would raise it only in defence: the one time he had raised his wand in hate, with the thirst for revenge, he had failed, had been unable to perform the curse; it didn't matter that he had tried to use an unforgivable, any other curse would have also failed. He knew that now, years later, but then he had not known it, had not known that he would never be able to kill for revenge.

Sometimes he wondered what he would have been like if his life had been different, if his parents had lived or even if he had been raised by Sirius. He would have been raised to mistrust the Slytherins, to hate the "Dark Side" - but he would also have been loved. How much would that have changed him? Would he have grown up to be just like his father, taunting and bullying all Slytherins, ready to prank who ever made a good target? Or would he have tried to rebel against his family and allowed the hat to place him into Slytherin as it had first wanted? Of one thing he was painfully certain, one thing that would have undoubtedly changed: he would have never been friends with Hermione, neither a Slytherin nor a prankster would have formed a friendship with her.

An eagle-owl on his window drew him out of his dark thoughts. Observing the avian for a moment before opening the window, he decided that it belonged to his great-grandfather – though why the older man sent him a parcel was a mystery to him. Carefully relieving the owl of its burden, he opened first the letter and then, more hurriedly, the parcel. The chest was beautiful, there was no other word for it; dark cherry wood, polished to a degree that he could almost use it as a mirror; even the Borgia crest was as smooth and shining as the rest as the chest. Following the instructions his great-grandfather had given him in the accompanying letter, he placed his left hand onto the family-crest. "I, Harold, child of Imogene, child of the Borgia demand access."

With an audible click the chest opened revealing twelve gleaming knives and a short note.

'Unstrap my son's knives and he will be able to call them to himself, Marcello'

Smiling, Harry unfastened the knives Marcello had lent him before picking up one of his own knives. Engraved into the handle was his family symbol, the same symbol that also adorned the borrowed knives: a single blood red bull. The knife he had picked up was the smallest of the set, barely longer than his hand but oh so beautiful. Not one of the knives looked like the other and, while all seemed to be made out of the same metal; each of them glittered in a different colour. The one he held was of a deep red, almost the same red his wand was, leaving him to wonder if they were also made out of mithril. Picking up one of the other knives, he noticed a small slip of parchment where the knife had lain, describing in short, clear words what poison adorned the blade and how it could be countered – or rather not countered by anyone of a different bloodline. Carefully weighting each of the knives in his hands, he decided that the red knife, the one he had picked up first (and the only one that was – not yet – poisoned) was his favourite. It was small enough to be concealed anywhere, even if it did not have numerous concealment charms already in place. As soon as he was a little bit calmer, he would coat the dagger with his own tears, ensuring that no one else, not even Fawkes, would be able to heal wounds caused by it. Hopefully, he would never need to use any of these knives but, if it came to it, he wanted to be sure that the smallest cut would be more than enough to kill, at least that way the death would be mostly painless. No longer did he hear his conscious when he thought about taking a life. He did not relish the thought, far from it, but he knew that it would not be his first time and he could also not deny that death was his nature, however much he wanted to deny it. With a sigh, Harry placed the knives back in the case, keeping only the smallest out. No, he would do his best to ensure Voldemort would be the only one he actively killed.

* * *

Here a new chapter ( finally)! You have largley to thank _The Resident_ for this quick- at least for me - update and also for the higher grammatical quality as he has edited this chapter and will hopefully continue to do so for the rest of the story! 


	30. Pink Panther,ah, Jaguar

Back to the future 30

Ancient words floated through his mind; words he feared without knowing their meaning. Deep within his soul he felt something stir, waiting to be fully awakened. Yet as Thanatos he was aware of the meaning of those words, of the importance of those fleeting commands. For him, the immortal spectre, they meant suffering and the end of all freedom.

Some… most thought of him as the darkness, the evil in its purest form; only a few saw him for what, who he really was: a guardian, a gateway to a new, a different life. There was nothing evil about him, at least not when he was free and not under the control of some mad being. Soon, soon that which he feared most would again happen, he would be called, bound to someone who wanted to use himself and through him his brother and sisters to cover the world in a darkness that hadn't been seen since the last time they had been called. There was nothing he would be able to do to prevent his enslavement once he was called, the human he had become would be lost in his own body, his soul shattered beyond recognition or repair.

* * *

With an uneasy feeling Harry awoke after a restless night. He could not remember what his dreams had been about, only that they had shown him something that could mean his death. He knew that he had sometimes dreams that showed him the future, yet as much as he tried he could never remember more of the dreams than the uneasy feeling they left behind. Resisting to growl at … about anything that was in his line of view Harry got ready for the day. His first class would be Gryffindor/Slytherin first years, a class he had come to loath. Not that there weren't students in the class he liked, but there were others whom he could live without ever seeing again. Narcissa Black was one of them.

Oh, the girl was intelligent, she was also rather pretty - but nothing could outweigh her nasty personality. She was everything he had come to hate about her future son and husband; and no matter how often Charles tried to tell him that she could be quite charming, was he not able to believe it. It didn't even matter to him that she was a Slytherin or a Black - it would have been rather hypocritical of him to have a problem with those aspects when the his intended was the hated girls older sister and in the same house. No, there was just something about her that prevented him from liking her. Maybe when she got older her personality would change to something resembling her older sisters but till then he just couldn't like her.

The other first year he hated with a passion was none other that Peter Pettigrew. At first he had thought that he could be indifferent towards the boy, that he could even grow to like him given enough time… But Peter was just so… In a way Peter reminded him of the Dursleys and Umbridge: afraid of, and hostile towards everything that didn't fit in their view of normal. He had found out by accident just how Peter thought. It had been on a Saturday afternoon when he had overheard Peter mumbling to himself on his way back from detention with Hagrid. Mumbling how Hagrid was clearly not human and that every non human belonged to Azkaban or better yet to be killed. Peter would never learn who was responsible for the full week of detention he received from Filch a few minutes later. Still, even though he knew what Peter would in later years do to his family and others he was not able, or even willing, to stop the other first year Gryffindor boys from befriending the rat.

* * *

He was barely able to concentrate during the day as he knew that the dream had been a warning – as were all his not remembered dreams. Something bad was approaching and he had the ability (and therefore) duty to stop whatever it was. It would not be tomorrow or even next week or month but maybe next year or the year after that... and as always he would be right in the centre of it. No, that was not right, the dream had not left him with an uneasy feeling about himself, rather had he felt Thanatos' fear. But then, wasn't he Thanatos? What could be so terrible that even death feared it? His first impulse had been to go to Uncle Albus for advice but then he remembered just in time that this Albus Dumbledore was not his mentor but a man who barely trusted him. If he were to learn now about his … second identity he would never gain the older mans trust. Yet who else could help him? Who had enough knowledge about this subject to be of any help to him?

Uncle Nicki, while wise had told him in the future that he knew next to nothing about the four Guardians; the one who had helped him most in his own time was in this time a small twelve year old boy. A first year who was just starting to discover what he could learn. No, Remus Lupin was no possibility.

Why had he come to the past? No one was here who knew enough about him to be of any help: none of the Borgia could help him, even though they knew that he was Thanatos – but than they didn't know who else he was. Uncle Nicki, while knowing his true name knew nothing about Thanatos - and Albus Dumbledore knew nothing at all. No-one knew enough to help him.

Cursing his misfortune Harry walked over to the wall that separated his office from his quarters, his hand trailing unconsciously over his wand as it often did when he was thinking. Maybe he should visit Gawain … Gawain! He knew that he was Harry Potter and he most likely also knew that he was Thanatos; yes, Gawain would be able to help him.

* * *

For the first time that day he was able to let his thoughts leave his not remembered dreams and settle on something else, a prank the Gryffindor first-year-boys had played at him. He knew that he should be angry with them and a part of him was angry but mostly he was amused. He should have realised that he would soon become one of their victims, if he was truthful with himself he was astounded tat they had waited so long to prank him. Yet with everything else that had happened during the last few weeks, months really he had simply forgotten that he was teaching the future Marauders. Now though he had to think of a way to get his revenge, a day of detention was simply not enough!

Damn it, he liked his hair, he liked its black colour, the way it made his eyes stand out! He didn't care if that made him sound vain, but he would not tolerate that the four little brats had dared to cures his hair pink! Almost every other colour would have been tolerable; well not tolerable but at least it would not have been a shocking pink! Why hadn't they cursed it red at least that would have been the hair colour of his mother, or grey or silver or even white? Why pink? Oh, he had not shown them how much their prank irked him; instead he had just given them a detention and had acted as if nothing was the matter. Now though that he was alone in his room he could start plotting, they would pay! And while he was at it, his dear colleagues who had dared to laugh at him would also pay.

Slowly a smile spread over Harrys face as he thought of the perfect way to get his revenge. The four boys wanted to be known as the greatest pranksters Hogwarts had ever seen? Well he would make sure that their wish came true, all the while being able to play as many pranks on his fellow professors and his students as he wanted. Oh yes, the brats would be hardly out of detention when he was through with them. He just had to think what kind of pranks he wanted to play. Minerva would have to be one of his first victims… and than the Slytherins.

Harry didn't even try to conceal his mirth when Minerva suddenly sprouted a tail and whiskers – both striped green and silver – during the next breakfast. When she stormed over to the Gryffindor table and deduced house-points as well as gave week-long detentions to her male first years he outright laughed with the students. After all it was quite funny how her whiskers quivered in anger and her tail swished behind her. Yes, the Marauders would be a legend when he was through with them! That day Minerva refused to attend any of the other meals, opting to eat in her quarters instead. When she didn't appear to lunch Harry had felt guilty – at least till he remembered her laughing face at his pink hair, which was by now only a pale pink but still pink.

He had already planned what to do to Filius, and, even though he had to limit his spell work to something an advanced first year could pull of, was his idea rather amusing. After all little golden wings that could carry the weight of the short professor as well as a tiny golden bow and golden arrows, were quite funny. Though maybe he should wait for a week or at least a few days, before he pulled _that _prank of. It wouldn't do for someone to find something amiss when so many pranks were pulled while the obvious culprits had hardly enough time to do their homework besides all their detentions.

Funny, he thought as he made his way back to his rooms after dinner, during his own school time he had never been much of a prankster. Of course he had liked the pranks the Weasley-twins had played but they had otherwise not interested him. Yet now he was plotting one prank after the other; and why? Just because his father, godfather, honorary godfather and the traitor had pulled a prank on him. Was he really so much like his father? He knew by now that many of the unsavoury things Snape had said about his father were true, but was he the same? Would he humiliate others just because he or one of his friends was bored? He of course hoped that he would never do such a thing – but could he really be sure? Could he be sure not to do something like his father had done to Snape for an equally trivial reason?

Settling down on the loveseat in front of his fire and calling a house elf for a hot chocolate Harry vowed to himself to never allow his own need for amusement to overrule his common sense.


	31. The Olivanders

Chapter 31

Sitting comfortable in an old armchair, a cup of tea before him Harry wondered what he should tell Gawain. As if sensing his confusion, which he most likely did, Gawain surveyed him from is seat on the opposite side of the small table.

"Have you ever wondered how I am able to chose just the right wand for every of my customers and how I am able to remember every single wand I once made?"

Seeing Harry nod he continued with a slight smile.

"What I will tell you now can not be repeated to anyone as it has remained a secret of my family for many generations, in fact since the beginning of our line. Each generation bears only one child in my family and once every few generations this child is different than every other child. This child will be the successor of the current wand-maker and its birth will mark the coming death of its ancestor. My own successor – and heir – has been born a year ago. In sixteen year I will star his apprentice and twenty to thirty years from now I will die and my great grandson will take my place."

Pausing for a moment Gawain allowed Harry to overcome the initial shock at his announcement before continuing.

"I will be well prepared when my time comes as I have grown up with the knowledge that one day one of my children would take my place. But enough about that! As I have already said, one child every few generations is special, not in looks – at least not primary – but in abilities and disabilities. My eyes are, as you might have guessed, not normal. They are what make me different from my father, grandfather, great- grandfather, my child and my grandchild. My great-grandson however and my great-great-grandfather had the same eyes. We are partly blind. I can not tell you if you have ornaments stitched into your robes or if they are plain, I would not even be able to tell if they were directly in front of my eyes. However I could tell you exactly what kind of wand was used to make those robes. I see the traces wand-magic leaves, even years after it was used. I can not tell you what spells were used but what the wand that cast the spells is made of, where the tree stood that provided the wood or the metal was mined. I can tell you which animal provided the core, how old it was and sometimes even if the animal had died willingly just to enable a wand to be made for a special wizard or witch. The tears in your wand were brought to me by an old vampire who told me that her master would need them when he came for a new wand, that was more than a century ago and I new better that to use them in one of my normal wands.

Every Ollivander creates one wand during his or her time that will surpass all his other wands, a wand that will be more powerful and more beautiful than everything else he or she has ever created. For me this wand was the one you carry.

Some people are destined to stand out, Harry. You may not like it, you may even hate it but nothing you can do can change this fact.. You are one of magics chew-toys, favoured above almost everyone else but also burdened above everyone else. Things that are impossible, unthinkable even, for others are barely worth a notice for you. You will be envied, hated even for this abilities but you will be also rewarded.

When I look at you I do not only see your wand, I see yourself, your magic and it is beautiful to look at. One of my ancestors made the wand the four founders used and her description of their magic was passed down in the family. What she described is similar to what I see when I look at you – and yet so different. I know that you are no longer only human, the scar on your hand proves it, I also know that you have Eldar-blood, as your magic sings with their power. And than… than there is also a shadow of something else in your magic. No, maybe shadow is a wrong way to describe it, it is above and beneath the rest of your magic, it is separate and at the same time the same as the rest of your magic. This part of your magic, of you, is deadly, no, not deadly it is death…"

Shocked Gawain halted as the realisation of what he had seen so often in the past months and what he had just described to his friend set it. Bowing his head he murmured an apology to the man before him.

For a moment Harry was unsure about what he should do. It was clear that Gawain had only then realised who he also was, something he had thought the older man had already known.

"I'm unsure about what you are apologising for but if it is for not recognising immediately what I am than you are forgiven.

However I do have something with which you could help me, or tell me who might be able to help me.

A few days ago I had a dream that I can't remember but that I know was very important to me – or rather Thanatos. I need a way to remember what the dream was about, and as soon as possible."

The eyes that searched his face were calculating and it took a while before Gawain replied.

"Who of you has clairvoyant dreams, you or the guardian? From what I have learned you are one person, Harry, so whatever you saw in your dream that was important to Thanatos was also important to you, maybe even more so.

To answer your question: there is a spell, even older than my shop, that allows to visit dreams that lie no further back than seventy two hours. If more time has passed I know of no way to recall your dream. Let me show you this spell and than you can back to Hogwarts and work out new way to prank you colleagues."

Smiling brightly at Harrys amazed look he commented only that he doubted that Harry had just anted a change of hair colour. Only than did Harry realise that he had not changed his hair back to black as he had intended in the morning and that it still was faintly pink. Even though Gawain had spoken as if it was only a matter of minutes to teach the spell it proved to be a matter of hours, at least more than one, before Harry was able to cast the spell to the satisfaction of his older friend.

* * *

As Gawain had instructed Harry lay down before casting the spell and immediately fell into a trace like state.

Someone,

Voldemort, Harry realised with a start,

was chanting a spell, no, an invocation, he was reading from an ancient looking scroll. Even while he was chanting the figure started to change and where moments ago Voldemort had stood, stood now Albus Dumbledore. Like Voldemort before him he was chanting an invocation, the same as his enemy.

Even as Harry was thinking, realising that both spoke the same chant their voices merged to one, sounding at the same time beautiful and horrible.

Suddenly he himself appeared in his dream, writhing the longer the chant continued. He did not seem to be in any physical pain, it looked, felt more as if something inside him was trying – and succeeding – in breaking free and an other part was trying desperately to prevent it.

It was only than that Harry realised what he was seeing, what his dream meant: someone, no, not someone, either Voldemort or Dumbledore would call Thanatos forth. The chant he was hearing was the invocation that had to be used to awaken the Guardian - and bind him to the invokers orders.

Sometime in the near future one or both of the men would try to call him and his dream was a warning, and a chance for him to find a way to stop it from happening. He had told his great grandfather, his great uncle and uncle Albus that he could not join the war. As Harry he could not join because his mind knew that he could not change (too much) about the past he knew, and as Thanatos he could not join because he would bring more destruction in one day than Voldemort could in a lifetime.

Falling into an exhausted sleep Harry vowed to himself that he would find a way to stop his dream from becoming reality.

* * *

Rather short, I know, but I wanted to post this chapter before I go home over the holydays so MERRY CHRISTAMS EVERYONE!


	32. The first crime family

**Back to the future 32**

Once again Harry cursed the wizarding methods of communication as he adjusted – once again – his position on the floor. Yes, he was sitting on a pillow instead of a chair and yes, he had used numerous cushioning charms on the pillow and the surrounding floor but he was still uncomfortable.

"Are you sure that neither of them already have the scroll?"

Marcello VIII had just asked him, his head floating in the fire. Even though the older man was frowning slightly at their topic Harry could see the barely disguised amusement at his discomfort.

"I know that Voldemort doesn't have it – as for Dumbledore… well, I guess that he at least knows of the existence of one or more of the scrolls but I doubt that he would use them if he didn't feel that it was absolutely necessary. So even if he has managed to get his hands on one of the scrolls I am safe from him, at least I like to think so."

"That is worrisome Harry, very worrisome!"

Hesitating for a moment he continued, a dangerous light having entered his eyes.

"One of the scrolls, the most protected of them I believe, is kept in the archives of the Vatican. It may take some time, a few weeks perhaps, for us to …acquire it and take of any curses that have been placed on it but after that we can figure out how to best use it."

…"The Vatican?...How?"

Was all Harry managed to stutter; surely Marcello was not talking about robbing the Pope!

A feral smile flickered over Marcellos' face as he saw the shock of his young cousins' face.

"You do know that two of our ancestors were Popes? Do you really believe that they spend their time just as the head of the church? No, they made sure that their descendants had ways to reach every place in the Vatican, no matter how hidden or warded. There are hallways through the whole place that are keyed solely on our blood, wards that kill anyone not of our family. If we really wanted to we could take over in a matter of hours.

You look shocked, child, surly you have heard that we are called the "First Crime Family"? Did you really believe that that claim was unfounded? We may have stepped into the background, so far even as to become a myth in the muggle-world; but only because we choose to do so. There simply wasn't any longer the need to stay in the limelight.

No, Harry, we did earn that dubious title and while we choose nowadays to mostly abide the laws we will act outside of them if it is needed for our security. Which means at the moment to do everything in our power to prevent you from being summoned and controlled, no matter what it takes. Do you understand why we act that way?"

Numbly Harry nodded. Did he understand? Yes, he did understand to well what Marcello was meaning. He acted the same way – at least when he was in his own time. Here he could not act as impulsively as he was used to, fearing that he would change the time too much.

"I will tell Iulianus that we need that particular scroll and if possible everything else about you and the other guardians. Most likely we will only borrow the scrolls and copy their contents but if it proves to be to dangerous we will forge something with the information that our family may have further information's on the subject – it has been done in the past and has worked well for everyone."

Not wanting to think anymore about his family's views on laws, and his own if he wanted to be truthful with himself, Harry asked a question that had bothered him for some time now.

"Is it safe to talk about such things on the Floo? I know that it can be intercepted and I doubt that my fireplace is warded more that I tried to do."

At that question Marcello laughed outright.

"Who did you think invented Floo-powder? It was a lovely witch a few centuries back who just happened to marry into our extended family. The only eight companies worldwide who produce the powder belong to our family. A part of the money that is monthly deposited in your vaults comes from them. I will have to remember to send you a batch of our family recipe that opens automatically a secure line. We can't ward your fireplace like the others of our family as it would raise to many questions we don't want to be asked."

Before Harry had the chance to answer they heard a persisting knocking on his office door which was amplified to reach his rooms. Hastily and regretful Harry closed the connection, promising the older wizard to call again the next weekend.

Cursing softly under his breath Harry made his way through his office to the door. Except for the faint scar-related headache it had been an altogether nice evening. He had only a few essays left to correct before he could have spend the next few hours reading his newest topic of interest, runes. The scowl that had settled on his face nearly as soon as he had disconnected his floo intensified as he saw not only Minerva but also four first years at his door.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"Now, Harry, there is no need to be grumpy. I noticed that you have yet to oversee a detention so I brought you these young gentlemen who have earned themselves a three hour detention for fighting in the hallways. Have a nice evening and remember to keep them only for three hours."

Harry was no longer scowling as he listened to his friend, no, as soon as he heard the words oversee a detention his scowl had turned into a glare that would make his dear old potions professor proud – or rather angry. How dare she ruin his evening!

"And why, pray tell Minerva, do you believe it to be a good idea that I oversee a detention for this particular bunch? You do know that I am closely related to one of them, promised to a second ones cousin and plainly like the other two?"

He saw the small grin on her face and vowed to himself to make her regret it at a later date.

"Surely you don't want to tell me that you are biased, Professor Andrews? Yes, I didn't think so – now have fun."

For a moment Harry just stared after her as she had turned around and left him with the four boys. Sighing he looked down at the four children, three Gryffindors and a Slytherin, his father, his godfather, his surrogate uncle and his beloved potions professor.

"Come on in, seems that we don't have a choice but spend the evening together."

Not looking back to see if the four boys were really following him Harry walked back into his office and to the door that led to his private quarters. He would be damned to spend the rest of the evening in the office he hated so much.

Wide eyed the four boys followed their professor as he led them to his personal quarters. They had all known that he was rather informal when it suited him but still. Not only had he outright scowled at one of the most respected teachers but he was also allowing them to enter his rooms. They were even more shocked when the professor called for a house elf as soon as all of them had entered the room.

"Dippy, please let the young masters tell you which of their unfinished homework they would like to have brought to them and retrieve it together with the necessary school-book from their possessions."

As soon as the house elf had vanished Harry turned to his students.

"You can spend the next three hours doing your homework, if you have any questions you can ask me. However do not expect that every detention with me will be like this. I had already plans for this evening and I will not abandon them simply because someone else was not in the mood to oversee your detention and carted you of to me without even asking beforehand. If you want something to eat or drink simply call for Dippy; as long as you are respectful to her I have nothing against you eating while doing your work."

For a moment Harry watched as first James and then the other three settled around his dining table while trying all the time to sneak glances at the room without actually looking around. Asking Dippy for a green tea with mint he settled down at his desk to correct the few essays he had left over from the days before and the afternoon.


	33. Devotion

**Chapter 33**

More than a week had passed since he had told Marcello about his need to find the scrolls and the older mans promise to provide said scroll – yet since than he hadn't heard from the other. He paused his essay marking as he heard someone call his name, a voice he did not recognise but as he turned around to face his fireplace he immediately recognised the face of Iulianus, the younger son of Marcello VII.

"Good evening, Harry. I hope I am not interrupting something important?"

Shaking his head at the question Harry confirmed that he had nothing more important to do than talk to the other man – after all he couldn't very well tell him the correcting essays was more important, not that that was the case.

"My brother called me a little over a week ago that you required a certain document and if possible everything else about that subject… I am very sorry to say that I had some other tasks to fulfil before I could spare the necessary time and devotion to this task.

We acquired the scroll and several others yesterday evening and I have to say that I am appalled that we did not do so before you asked about them. What they contain is too dangerous to just be lying around."

As Iulianus paused for a moment Harry was finally able to ask what bothered him:

"How bad is it? I mean not generally but for me?"

The silence that followed his question told him more than anything else just how bad it really was.

"What I read in the scroll you asked for is very bad, it tells in great detail how to summon and how to bind you. Only the other scrolls I managed to find tell of ways to avoid this – but the ways they point to are also something you would want to avoid if possible. As far as these scrolls tell, you will be aware when the time comes that someone will try to call you, exactly three moons before this happens you will know. Then, and only than will we attempt to do something about it. The dream you have had had nothing to do with the entity you are. Carlos, my youngest, has done a bit research and has found that many Andrews have had precognitive dreams. So it was not the guardian that had that dream, but you, the human. Your Eldar-blood should amplify any seer-abilities you have, whether that is a good or a bad thing you have to decide for yourself.

Cassandra, my oldest daughter has seen what will become of you, of all of us if we can not stop you in time. Should you be called by any one other than your keeper not only you but the houses of Potter and Borgia will fall. You are our future: with you we all will either flourish or perish – I, we will forever be damned if we allow it to be the later. As we speak my father is rousing the family, every last member no matter how distantly related will come to your aid. You may carry a different surname but you are a Borgia. And the Borgia take care of their own and those they find worthy. You are both, therefore everyone of us will lay down his or her life before we allow you to be harmed by anyone not of our blood."

* * *

An almost caressing smile slid over Iulianus face as he observed the shell-shocked face of the young professor. He had only met him once, at Christmas when he and his family were visiting his sister, her husband and her son. Since then both his father and brother as well as his sister and brother in law had spoken much and highly about young Harry Andrews.

Oh, contrary to what the young man before him might think they had researched his history more than some might think possible. They were therefore quiet aware that he was not who he was pretending to be, was not Reginald Andrews son – but they also knew that he was a child of Imogene Borgia and Narwa. They had tested him more than once and each of these tests would have ended with the death of James favourite professor had he not carried their blood, if he wasn't a Borgia. Some, most would call what they had done ruthless and amoral, most would also call for them to be prosecuted for attempted murder, but most meant also that you were not a Borgia and did therefore not count in their equation. Had Harry Andrews failed any of their tests he would be dead, but even if he had miraculously survived any of those tests without belonging to their family they had insured that he would have died a most painful death at their hands. One did not trifle with the Borgias – either you were one of them or you were not.

Harry had passed every single of the tests they had thrown at him, he hadn't even been aware that he was tested. Maybe someday they would tell him, maybe not. But since he had passed the tests… he was a Borgia and that was all that mattered in the end. It did not matter what his real name was, hopefully he would tell them one day but if not… well in the end it didn't matter as he was one of them, he was family, he was their blood.

"You seem shocked that we would die for you, child."

All Harry could do was mutely nod at the question. What was there for him to say? That they would not be the first to die for him, that his parents, his godfathers, both of them, the official and the unofficial as well as many others had willingly died for him? Or that he would have preferred to die himself than let all the others die for him and damn him to live with the knowledge that he was responsible for their death?

No, there was nothing he could say.

Seeing that he was not about to say something the older man continued, his voice much softer than before.

"Childe, the Borgia honour nothing above family. You are family and therefore will be protected. If we did not care for you as much as we already do we would still protect you but we would do not protect you to such a degree. All of those you have met have taken you into their hearts, me included, and that is not an easy feat as we seldom give our affection to anyone not of our blood. Yet you somehow managed just that, even before we knew that you are one of us. We would not allow what my daughter saw to come to pass, even if it did involve just you and not also the rest of the family.

To us it doesn't matter that you are a Guardian, that you are Thanatos – in our family that just means an other unusual ability among many others. My brother is, what is so crudely called a Necromancer, my oldest daughter is a seeress, my sister can tell you after a glance if you are trust-worthy or not, I myself am an enchanter as are both my sons.

No, Harry, to us you are just an other member of the family we cherish, a young member at that. Only my youngest daughter is younger than you and that only by a year. To all of us you are one of our children, a child at that that needs our protection – and we will give you this protection if you want it or not!"

* * *

The next morning Harry was barely aware when he went to breakfast or to his classes. The fire-call of Iulianus had left him reeling in more than one way. He had been anxious to know if the scrolls had been rediscovered and what they contained; he had thought that someone would call him about them – but never, never in his wildest dreams had he expected to hear such a declaration of love and devotion. What had he done to earn such unfailing loyalty from not only a few people but a whole family that barely knew him by his assumed name? How could they be willing to die for him, a stranger? 

Was that what family was like he asked himself? This were the people his father had grown up with, the same people who had thought and raised the man who so willingly gave up his life to allow his wife to escape with their infant son. Till now he had thought that it was something extraordinary what his parents had done that night, even though he had known that countless parents had died for and with their children. Now though even his heart had to realise that it was, while still extraordinary, not something that separated his parents from the rest of their families.

All of them were willing to die for him, a virtual stranger, only because he was a member of their family.

Faintly he wondered how Petunia was able to turn out the way she had with her family. While he had yet to meet his maternal grandparents he had heard enough about them to place them in the same category as the Potters and Borgia – after all they had raised his mother. And nothing would be able to make him believe that his mother was the oddball in her family.

Someday, when he had returned to the future, to his own time, he would confront her about all that she had allowed to be done to him, had done to him herself. He did not seek revenge, afterall she was still his family, no, al he wanted were answers. Why had she acted the way she did, why had she hated her sister and him so much? Was it really just jealousy, or was it something else? What could have happened between the two sisters that made one of them rejoice over the death of the other even years after the death had occurred?

"Harry, are you even aware where you are?"

The quiet and admittedly worried voice of Minerva brought him finally out of his thoughts. Only then did he realise that not only the whole morning – with three classes he had thought – but also most of lunch had passed without him even noticing. With a rueful smile he turned to hi older colleague.

"Now that you have brought me out of my thoughts… I apologise for my inattentiveness – my thoughts were miles away. I had a rather…"

unsure of what to say Harry paused. How could he best describe what he felt about Iulianus revelations? Humbled? Staggered? Frightened? Taking a deep breath he continued, his voice rather unsure.

"Yesterday I had an overwhelming conversation on the floo and am still not completely sure how I should, how I can react to what I have learned.

Give me a few days and I will be back to my insolent self."

While Minerva did not ask him again about his absentminded behaviour did he see during the following the worried glances he bestowed upon him.


	34. The pieces are moving

**Back to the future 34**

The attack came while he was sleeping. Before he was able to realise what happened to him he felt as if someone had split his head open through the use of a dull axe. All thought left him as he was helplessly screaming under the onslaught of the curses that were not aimed at him. His own blood was mingling with that of those he witnessed being killed as the scar that adorned his forehead split open. Unable to tear his minds eye away from what Voldemort was seeing, was doing, he had to witness the slaughter of family after family, see how the monster took pleasure in having parents torture their children before he killed them in the most agonising ways. Worst of all he was not only seeing what the other man, no, no longer a man, was seeing – no, he was also feeling the same pleasure at those acts that were committed miles away from where his body lay in anguish. Nothing in him registered as Fawkes appeared in his room and guided his body and mind into unconsciousness and let his tears fall onto the bleeding scar.

It was morning when conscious thought returned to Harry and with it everything he had been forced to see the night returned to him in its gruesome glory. Without a thought he rushed over to his bathroom where he was violently sick. After endless minutes he walked slowly over to the large mirror that adorned the wall next to the sink and cancelled the magic that covered his scar at all times. Where the skin of his face was visible beneath the dried blood that covered most of it, it was deadly pale. During the last two years of his life he had spent most of his time indoors and had grown paler each day but never before had he been as pale as he was then. With a sigh Harry walked to the shower, intend to wash away the memories of the night before that would not fade, knowing that nothing but time would dim the face contoured in agony.

Hushed silence descended over the great hall only moments after the Daily Prophet was delivered. Yet the silence did not last long as the first students made their shock at the news known. Turning to look at Charles newspaper that the other man held loosely in his hands Harry paled even further as he read what he had already known.

_Massacre in London_

_89 Muggles and 7Aurors killed_

_Yesterday night a massacre took place at the outskirts of London. At 2.48 am the use of an Unforgivable (the three Unvorgivables page 3) was registered by Auror Forester. A force of three Aurors was immediately dispatched to the area. What they found was something not seen since the defeat of Grindelwald by Albus Dumbledore 26 years ago. A group of 16 wizards of unknown identity, all clad in black robes, hoods and white, skull like masks covering their faces, were torturing and killing muggles. _

At that point Harry stopped reading. He did not need the words of the reporter, the second or most likely third or forth hand information that was printed. He had seen it all, every cut that was made, every blood that was spilt; had felt every curse that came from Voldemorts wand. The last night he knew would go down in wizarding history as the Great Massacre of London´ that began the first war. For the next ten and a half years every wizard would fear for the life of himself and his family, nearly one third of the magical population of Britain would be killed in the coming years.

Nearly sightless Harry looked over the assembled students. How many of them would survive the coming years? Unconsciously his eyes stopped at the section of the Gryffindor table that the first years occupied. Out of the seven students only three would survive. Sirius would spend the new found peace in Azkaban, Remus mourning his friends and Peter hiding from his crimes in the form of a rat.

Three out of seven; and none of the three survived the second war.

All because of one man, one monster.

His gaze and with it his thoughts drifted over to the Slytherin table and to his future wife. What would happen to her? Would she survive, would she stay sane? He knew that he had, if not avoided her outright than at least not sought her company since he had given her the promise ring. To a degree he feared her, feared what he knew she was able to become. Fawkes had known that he would accept her parent's proposal. He could not help himself; years of being told by the Dursleys that everything bad that happened was his fault had left its scars: from the moment he gave her the ring doubts plagued him. What if he was the reason that she turned to Lestrange and Voldemort? What if he was the reason that she lost her sanity? He could not deny that he was attracted to her – but did he love her, could he love her?

A sudden clarity came to him as he watched her reading the newspaper. It did not matter if he loved her now or not, if he continued to avoid her she would turn from him. Maybe she would not join Voldemort but he would definitely loose her.

* * *

Another two day passed before he had her class again. Before she could leave the classroom he stopped her. Her quickly masked confusion told him more than any words could that she had most likely given up on him shoving any kind of affection towards her.

"Bellatrix, do you have anything planned for the Saturday after this?"

For long moments Bellatrix simply stared at her professor but just as Harry was about to repeat his question she answered.

"No, professor; besides doing my homework I have nothing planned."

He was not sure if he should curse her for her unemotional answer or be glad that she had answered him at all.

"Would you mind doing your homework sometime else and spend the day with me? I am aware that we haven't spent any time together and apologise for the neglect you suffered through me."

Fascinated he watched as a small smile stole itself on the girls features while he spoke – after all it was only right to apologise what he had or rather had not done in regards of their relationship during the last weeks.

"When do you want to meet, professor?"

When he had asked Lucretia where he should take Bellatrix on their first date´ she had suggested a - as she put it – cosy villa slightly north of Tivoli that would be just perfect for young love´.

* * *

All Harry could do was smile impishly at Bellatrix amazed face as she took in their surroundings as the portkey stopped. While the house was really rather small and had only three bedrooms and for other rooms did the gardens make more than up for the house size. Being only May it was not as hot as Lucretia had warned him the summers got in this area but it was already warm enough to spend the day outdoors.

"It's beautiful here, Professor – but where exactly are we?"

When her future fiancé had asked her more than a week ago to meet him outside of classes, and then even for a whole day, she hadn't quiet known how to react. After all he had pretty much ignored her since he had given her the promise ring. At first she had wanted to tell him that she had no time, that she had already made plans for the day he had proposed for them to spend together; yet at the last moment she had decided against it. She didn't know why he had avoided her, maybe he had a good and believable reason and she didn't want to be the one to destroy a possible relationship between them before it even begun.

A soft "Harry" drew her out of her thoughts.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Call me Harry or something else outside of school – I have enough names for you to find something to use instead of professor or sir, please."

* * *

How in Merlin's name did he expect her to just start calling him by his name? He was her professor, a man who would teach her for four more years! But once again she just agreed with him and nodded her head – after all her parents had drilled into her and her sister always to respect their elders. That is as long as they are pureblood and of a higher standing then themselves and you couldn't top the Borgias, not even as a Black.

"Please tell me something about you, something that has nothing to do with the proposal but something you would want me to know. I realise that I have been rather…neglectful… these past weeks and to be truthful I have no excuse for my behaviour except maybe wanting us to get used to the idea that we will have to keep everything personal out of the halls of Hogwarts if we both want to stay there."

"And just how will I get used to that if you are ignoring me completely outside of class?"

It took only a moment for her to realise that she had spoken out of turn and respect less to her professor. Yet before she could manage an apology he started laughing!

"Of course you are right" he managed between his laughter, "but you have to understand that I have to get used to not only being a teacher but to teach those that are the parents of myself and pretty much anyone under twenty that I know in the Wizarding world. Not to forget the

fact that I am promised to someone I have met a few times as an adult in my own time who is now younger than I am and just damn cute…"

Hearing this Bellatrix did not even try to fight the grin that his words provoked – even though she felt that she should be offended at being called cute.


	35. Prince Charming maybe

He should have known that the day was going too well

**Back to the future **

Chapter 35

He should have known that the day was going too well. He should have known! At first he tried to ignore the faint headache – after all it could just be stress catching up with him, right? But when it grew stronger he realised that he had to bring Bellatrix as soon as possible back to school and lock himself in his quarters. Just as he was to tell her that they would have to cut their date short and leave, his head exploded into a myriad of sounds, images and pain.

Somewhere his mind registered the panicked voice of Bellatrix but it dimmed before the onslaught of Voldemorts voice that called out dark curses on a group of muggles.

* * *

Bellatrix did not know what to do.

The day had started out wonderful: Harry, as he had asked her to call him when not in school, had met with her in the entrance hall right after breakfast. Instead of walking to Hogsmead like she had expected he took her to his rooms. When she had seen where they were heading she had been slightly uneasy but then he had told her that they would use portkey to their destination. Despite her questions he had not told her where they were going so as soon as the portkey had landed she had looked around and was completely amazed by what she saw. In the near distance could mountains be seen with small towns or villages on their slopes but most of all beautiful gardens wherever she looked. Only when she had turned around did she see a modest sized tasteful house, painted in colours that let it appear to be a part of the garden.

After she had answered some of his questions she had dared to repeat her own question where they were – only to receive a shrug and a stunning answer. While he had been able to tell her that they were in Italy – more exact slightly north of Tivoli he had told her that that was all he knew. The house was apparently one of the many properties his family, the Borgia, owned and that were owned by the whole family rather than one individual.

At first he had shown her around the vast garden – or rather they had discovered together just how beautiful the garden was with its many fountains and artificial waterfalls, hidden grottos and overshadowed paths. Everything she saw could have come right out of one of the old fairy tales, her intended her very own prince charming – ok his flying Pegasus was missing but everything else seemed to fit. For as long as she could remember she had been told that she would one day marry either one of the Lestrage brothers or Lucius Malfoy – and she had liked neither of them. After all what girl in her right mind could like a boy that spend more time in front of a mirror than she did herself, or for that matter boys who talked openly, not caring that she could hear them, how they would make sure that their future wife obeyed them without complain? But then everything had changed thanks to her DADA professor. He was everything her parents wanted from a son in law: he was pureblood, he was rich and he was influential. The first two would have been enough to convince her parents that he was as desirable as the Lestranges or Malfoy but it was the last that made it clear that there was no better choice than him; she would even go as far as say that, had he declined her proposal her parents would have tried again with Narcissa if he had by then be still unattached.

Yet as the day wore on something changed in her intended. At first she was not sure what it was that she was sensing, they had been having fun, more fun then she had ever imagined herself having with the man her parents chose for her to marry, when she noticed something shift. There was nothing in his behaviour that changed; still she was sure that something had changed. What confused her even more was that Harry behaved as if nothing had happened but try as much as she might she knew that something about him was different. As the afternoon continued she watched him out of the corner of her eyes, careful that he wouldn't notice – or at least wouldn't suspect her motives. From time to time she caught him raising his gloved hand to his forehead, never quite touching and yet he did not even seem to notice what he was doing, just as if he had done the motion countless times before.

Even though she had spend the better part of the afternoon waiting for something to happen she was more than shocked when something finally did happen. The moment Harry had stood up and opened his mouth to say something to her she had known that that was the moment she had been expecting. Before either of them were able to react his face went pale and his eyes glazed over in pain. The hand he had raised numerous times during the afternoon flew to his head while he crumpled to the floor. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her unflappable DADA professor twitching in pain, blood pouring through the gasps of his gloved fingers.

Panicked Bellatrix called his name and tried to rouse him, hoping that he would be able to react to her voice. She needed help but anyone she knew was to far away – and not keyed into the wards that surrounded the house and surrounding land. In her agitated state she had not even noticed that she had ran to the next fireplace and had thrown some of the floo-powder into the fire, only when she wondered who could help her did she realise that she was on Borgia-land and the only people who could therefore help her were members of the only family her parents had taught her to fear.

Voice shaking from both panic over the state of her professor and fear of the man she was about to call: "Marcello Borgia"

* * *

It was not all that uncommon for the Borgia family to meet en mass, it was not even uncommon for them not to know just why exactly they were meeting, as that happened once every few years. Every time one of them felt that the family was needed by one of their own they would have such meetings that everyone that had not pressing matters to attend elsewhere would participate in. When Callisto had called them late in the morning that one of them would need them during the day, they had had all the information they needed: one of their family, one of their own was in need.

The hours had passed without anything out of the ordinary happening yet they all knew that something would be happening and that the only questions were when and where. All of them felt the building anticipation as the afternoon drew to a close – and none of them were really surprised when the voice of a young teenager called out the name of their patriarch.

When he saw who it was that had called him Marcello VII immediately knew that they had gathered because something was wrong with their newest member.

"Sir, please, you have to help! It's the professor – I don't know what is wrong with him! I tried…"

"Hush, child. Tell me what happened, Miss Black, and where you currently are, I am sure that we will be able to find a solution to your problem!"

In his time he had raised three children with his wife and had often babysat his grandchildren, grandnieces and nephews and all the other children in the family, he knew that the first thing he had to achieve was to calm Harrys young intended down before anything else could happen.

"Sir, I don't know what happened exactly, one moment he was fine and in the next moment he was on the floor, clutching his head and he was bleeding… He doesn't react when I call his name and I don't know what to do! The day was so perfect, he took me out to one of your houses, by Tivoli I think he said but now, I don't know what to do, please help him!"

He did not even have to turn to his granddaughter to prompt her to direct those of the family members that would be of use to Harry to one of the other fireplaces.

* * *

All four Borgia who arrived minutes had heard what the second Black daughter had said about their relative and yet none of them had expected to see the young man lying in a pool of his own blood, unresponsive to the words of his intended. Marcello VII was the first to react, leading the crying girl away from his nephew secure in the knowledge that the other three would take care of Harry. As long as the child was with them Marcello VIII hit his shock as good as he was able to, but as soon as his father had led her away he turned to his great aunt.

"He is slipping away, whatever you want to do you have to do fast, aunt Helen. He may not be meant to die today but the ties that bind his soul to his body are slipping."

The only woman who had accompanied the three male Borgia knelt next to the crumpled for of Harry, not minding the blood that soaked her clothes. Carefully she pried the gloved hand from the pale faces, only to replace it with one of her own. Turning to the third member of the group she ordered him to bring her clean water as well as several herbs they had brought with them.

"Marcello, be a dear and hold him on this plane while your son and I heal him, if possible break the connection he has with the person that is causing this. And sit down before you try anything, I don't have time to worry about you too."

Smiling wryly at his aunt besides the situation they found themselves in Marcello drew a chair next to the body of his cousin and sat down. Carefully he picked up one of the still hands before he allowed his eyes to turn completely black.

* * *

Claudius returned just in time to see his fathers eyes change. As a child, when he had witnessed the change for the first time he had been terrified; of course he had been told what his father was, had even read everything he had been able to find about the Lords of Awakening, still to see it. To see his own father change in such a way, turning into a completely different person while continue to look mostly the same. Sometimes he wondered if his fathers hair was already completely white beneath the glamour he constantly wore over it. He knew that in some years he would start to reduce the glamour, seemingly growing grey with age but till then he had to wear glamours not to arouse suspicion.

In his own generation he was the one who had inherited most from their elven-side, at least he was till now, he had no idea what exactly Harrys powers were. He was the only healer in his generation, well, he was the only one with the gift, aunt Helena was still training him and would continuo for several years. Silently he followed his aunts instructions, knowing that any questions he wanted to ask had to wait till later, till Harry had either recovered – or died.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the long wait - and that I can't promise to update more regulary. Well, I will try do update at least once a month but I have so much to do and time flies by... anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!**


	36. Waves

Chapter 36

Few living beings knew what being a Necromancer, a Lord of Awakening, really meant. And even those few that were aware of it in general terms had no idea what a humbling feeling it was to actually practice the art; for an art, one of the most sacred once it was. Yet for everyone who had even the faintest of ideas what it meant, there were millions who did not know of them at all or worse yet scorned their very existence.

Since the beginning of mankind there had been those who feared them, who hunted them like some kind of murderous animal. Horrible spells were created to identify torture and kill them. Few, oh so few were able accept them, realise that they were not evil, that they were not hell bent on world domination simply because they were able to walk on the same plane as the soul.

When he had been a little child, not even three years of age, and it had become apparent to his parents just what he was they had done what his brother had done only weeks ago for Harry: they had raided the Vatican, removing or altering every document that mentioned Necromancers even in passing.

Sometimes he wished for a different gift, one that was not so draining, he didn't mind that it was dangerous or that most of the world would kill him as soon as they knew what he was – that is if they could overcome their fear of his family. No, what bothered him was that he could see or rather sense the soul of every being he came in contact with even when he was not actually using his gift.

Inwardly he sighted, he had to find Harry and fast! Normally it posed no problem if a person could project his or her soul outside of their body – as long as it was securely anchored to the body and as long as the separation had occurred voluntary. When they had arrived he had immediately seen that Harrys soul was not anchored at all and he had cursed his cousin for being so careless. He was sure that he started frowning as soon as he allowed himself to open his senses to the world of the souls and the dead. Only once before had he seen someone whose soul had been forcible torn from his body and who had not instantly died. He did not like at all what it implied that someone had the power necessary to tear the soul of a guardian out of his body.

* * *

Harry did not know how much time had passed since his connection with Voldemort had been torn open. Had it been hours, minutes or only seconds, he could not tell. Sure, on some level he knew that enough time had passed for Voldemort and his followers to terrorise a small muggle village, to torture and kill, and to leave. Yet that was all he was able to tell. He did not know where he was, nor did he particularly care, all he knew that his pain was not yet over. Even though the raid had seemingly been successful Voldemort was not happy and was taking his frustration out on his followers. The time that passed for the other wizard to calm down enough to speak without cursing those kneeling before him seemed endless. Any concept of time or even rational thought that Harry had had left after they had abandoned the village, fled him during the second torture session.

Dimly he heard that they had been searching for a child that had been born during the last summer, a little boy that had been the most likely choice to become someone Voldemort wanted desperately on his side – or rather under his control. Yet the child, a cute little boy, had been despite every prediction been nothing more than a cute infant.

Even without the curses Harry could feel Voldemorts' frustration, his wish to kill everything around him and with this awareness came the certainty that he was completely at the Dark wizards' mercy. As long as Voldemort did not calm down he would not be able to leave the others presence and the longer his soul stayed torn from his body the fainter his hold on his life grew. In his own time uncle Albus and uncle Nicki had warned him of the possibility that he could be drawn to far into a vision to return on his own, that such an occurrence would most likely bring his death as only a skilled Necromancer would be able to aid his soul back to his body; yet thankfully it never went that far.

Now though, now when he was in a time not his own, in a time where no one knew of his connection to the murderer and what it could cause he had to loose himself in such a vision. For a faint moment his thoughts turned to Bellatrix and he wondered how the young girl was reacting, before a new curse was cast and his awareness shifted once again to the pain it caused him.

His first thought at hearing his name being called was that, besides Fawkes assurances, Voldemort could actually sense him, only when it was repeated again and again did he realise that the voice that called him couldn't possibly be Voldemorts' but none other came to his mind.

* * *

It had been easier to find Harry than he had expected, the echo of pain was so strong that he had to suppress a wince as it slammed into him. All he had to do was to follow that pain in order to find his cousin; the hard part would come as soon as he had found him. Not only would he have to convince the younger man to want to return to his body but he had also to break the hold the unknown person had over his cousins' soul. At least he had to block the access long enough for Harry to return and wake up.

There were no set rules, no guidelines that told him how to proceed, there wasn't a handbook that listed possibilities on what he could expect to encounter when he followed a soul that had left its body and was unable to return. Most often the reason for a soul being lost was that they had found their idea of paradise and simply didn't want to return to their body and loose that state of bliss. Then there were those cases where the soul simply wasn't able to either find the body or was - for whatever reason - unable to re-enter the body, children made up most of those cases. The last group consisted of those unfortunate souls that had been forcibly torn from their bodies.

One of the reasons that his kind were feared, hated even, was because they were the only once who could reverse the Dementors Kiss. Centuries ago they had worked with the once in power, ensuring that this most horrible of punishments was not dealt unfairly. Now though they were prosecuted because they could use their gift to help criminals escape justice.

Sometimes he found himself in places that greatly resembled the real world, other times what he saw could only be found in books or dreams – yet what he saw while looking for Harry was neither…and both. He did not really see anything as he was almost completely surrounded by darkness; still something was giving of a faint glow. He did not know how long he stared at the eerily glowing waves of…something… till he realised that what he was seeing was the pain that crashed against his senses. The other source of light was continuously dimming. At the centre of the waves he saw Harry.

There was no doubt in his mind that, had Harry not been a Guardian, had not been Thanatos, he would have died before he was able to come to his aid. While Harry's body had been deadly pale and an unseen wound had been heavily bleeding leaving him in a pool of his own blood, Harrys soul appeared at the first glance to be in good health. It was only when Harry looked up that he saw that he had to act fast lest he loose the young Guardian. Trails of blood were running down the unmoving face, green eyes glazed over in anguish; he couldn't even be sure if he was seen at all. Weaving through the waves he called out to the lost soul.

* * *

The sight that met him as he looked to the voice that called out to him was not what he had expected – but than he hadn't been expecting anything at all. For an endless moment he could not identify the man that was still calling him, his mind flickering between needless thoughts, pain and important matters without focussing on anything except the pain. Incomprehensively he stared at the man with the shockingly white hair till some of his thoughts caught his attention.

The first was Necromancer and he felt his sense of power over his own actions return to him as he felt that he was able to command this man who could walk the paths of the souls. The second thought consisted of a name, Marcello, and with it came a longing that he could not identify till the third thought stood out: family. This man, Marcello, a Necromancer was what he longed for the most, he was family and this more than anything else would have been able to do brought him a feeling of safety.

The same moment their eyes connected, all consuming black and anguished green, Harry felt Voldemorts hold on him lessen and his own thoughts slowing down. Once again he was aware where he was, who he was and that he had to return to where he had been before he had been pulled into the horrific vision. For the first time his mind registered that he was crying, not from the pain he had been forced to feel but from the knowledge that he was partly responsible for the fate of the small boy.

It had been that child, that small boy who should have become a Guardian. Had he not come back in time the infant would have carried the essence of Thanatos just as Voldemort had been informed. He remembered what Fawkes had told him, remembered the reason for his time-travel; oh, he knew that even without his presence the child would not have lived to complete his first decade of live but still he couldn't help feeling a small twinge of guilt. A whole village had been destroyed and its inhabitants tortured and murdered simply because the information Voldemort had regarding one of its children was faulty. Would the others have survived if he had not come? Or would they have been killed regardless of the childes power?

Once again it took a moment before he realised that Marcello was calling his name. With surprise he noted that the man was standing next to him when moments before he had been at the other side of the room, far away from Voldemort.

"Harry, you have to return to your body, lest you die. Your soul holds barely any ties to this world and as we stand here they are further thinning, I don't know how much longer till they snap and you will die."

Alarmed Harry looked at his uncle, he had known that there was a high possibility that he could die – but to hear that it was only a matter of moments!

"How do I get back?"

* * *

Wearily Marcello focused his eyes, knowing that they were slowly returning to their normal appearance. It was never easy to return a soul to its body but to do so for someone who was his family… There was always a possibility that he would not succeed but when it came to family failure was definitely not an option. As soon as he had fully returned to the plane of the living he looked at Harry, knowing that it might still take some time before the younger man woke up. He would have to talk to him, what had just happened was simply unacceptable for a Borgia! A worried from marred his face as he took in the scene in front of him; his son and his aunt kneeling next to young Harry, both unconcerned that they were kneeling in the unconscious mans blood. They had come close to loosing Harry, too close.


	37. An overdue lesson I

Back to the future

Chapter 37

They were still waiting for Harry to wake up and even though both Claudius and Helen had ensured the other three that Harry was by now "only" unconscious did it do nothing to ease their fear. While the four Borgia were quietly talking with each other about things they did not mind the young Black overhearing, the teanager spend her time alternately staring out of a window and at the still form of her intended. It had taken Lord Borgia over an hour to calm her down from her frantic state and in the end it had only been her fear of what she had been taught about him and his family that calmed her.

It might have been the second time she had met – or at least seen – the head of the Borgia and the first she saw his son and heir as well as who was obviousely one of his grandsons and his sister? Or was she his wife?, and she took care to note the differencies and simmilarities they had to each other and her betrothed. All five of them had Black hair though the woman and Lord Borgia were already starting to grey, which for wizards and witches could mean that they were somewhere between fourty and ninety – older still if you had creature-blood of some kind.

Yet as much as she tried she was not able to find anything in her professors face that clearly marked him as a member of the same family as the other four. Each of the others looked in one way or the other the same, all of them had the same chin and the three males had the same mouth and eyes while the woman and Marcello VII had the same cheekbones. Harry Andrews face however was different: while it had the same struckture as the Borgias' his mouth and eyes were very different – and he seemed more graceful, more delicate than the other three males. He had told her who his parents were and while she could find more of James Potters features in him and some of Lily Evens' than the four Borgias could she not help but feel that there was one missing piece in the puzzle her intended presented for her that would let her understand him. At least understand him better than she did, which was barly at all.

He as well as the other Borgia she had met thus far were one great mystery to her. While she wasn't naive enough to think that they trusted her or that they were always as nice and comforting as they had presented themself to her ever since she had called them for help, could she no longer understand why everyone in the wizarding world feared the mere mentioning of their name.

Even though she was looking at him, it was not Bellatrix who first noticed when Harry woke up.

"You gave us quite a scare, child!"

* * *

Something in Marcello VII's voice had changened. While it had been soft and comforting when he had spoken to her and had carried a hint of worry when he had only moments ago spoken with his family, it now had a quality to it that Bellatrix could not quite place. The worry and concern were clear as was a trace of annoyance but beneath all that was something else; a command, silken and ellusive but all the same present.

Looking away from her intended the young Black surveyed the others in the room and watched as the woman placed her hand on her intendeds head, waiting for him to open his eyes. Only after he had completed this action did she speak to him, telling him in a soft commanding voice how he had to act for the next several days and that she would visit him once a week till she was satisfied with his health. As soon as the woman had left them, giving each member of her family a kiss on the temple and patting Bellatrix on the head, the youngest of the three Borgia stood up and offered his hand to Bellatrix. Almost unconsciously she looke at her, for permission or reassurence she did not know, and only took the offered hand after he had given her a faint nod.

Both, the current head of the Borgia and his successor, waited till the youngest heir and the young Black had left the room and closed the door behind them before they turned as one to Harry. At first neither of the three spoke till Harry uttered a tired yet heartfelt 'Thank You' to both of them.

"You were lucky that you were not alone when you were torn from your body."

There was absolutely no emotion in Marcello VIII's voice and Harry inwardly wiced at its flatness, as far as he was concerned any emotion, even anger would have been better than no emotion at all.

"Had your fiancé not called us when she did you would have died and that is unacceptable.

Whoever has that much power over you, a Guardian, is dangerous to the whole family and as such has to be stopped by any means necessary, so tell us exacetly what happened."

Suppressing a painfilled – and also annoyed – groan Harry sat up before he answered his uncle; he would not have this uncomfortable conversation while lying down and looking up to the two older men!

"I have a one-sided bond with someone, a bond the other is completely unaware of and sadly a bond that will only break when one of us dies – which won't happen in the close future. As far as I know there is nothing I can do to block the bond or stop it from opening – and before you ask, this was the first time I left my body."

While Marcello VII was not frowning his voice potrait his feeling clearly:

"You mean to say that you knew that this could happen, that you knew that there was someone who could separate you from your body and kill you that way? And you didn't think that this piece of information would be of interest to the family? Henry, you are a Borgia, even if only your grandmother was born a Borgia, and as such it is your dutiy to report everything that presents such a danger to you and the family. Whoever you have this bond with – and you will tell us who it is – is powerful enough to seperate the soul of a Guardian from its body, which means that he is also powerful enough to do it to everyone else. Worse yet, when he is realy doing it without being aware of it..."

Harry winced as his great-grandfather called him Henry; yes, it was his name, but no-one actually used it. It was always Harry, that is when he wasn't called freak or boy or Potter. He wasn't able to remember a single time that he had been called Henry, he hadn't even known that his name was Henry and not Harry before he had seen his first report card in school.

As he noticed that his grandfather was just starting what had every promise to become a long winded rant about his responsibility to the family Harry couldn't help himself and interrupted one of the most feared living wizards.

"There was no reason to tell you about the bond", Harry interrupted the older man, his voice noticable colder than before, "while it is true that the bond can be dangerous for me, I am the only one in danger. There is no possible way to replicate it and as such everyone else is save. Even if he were aware what power he could potentially have over me, he could no exercise it as the bond is one-sided: I can see through his eyes and feel what he is feeling if his emotions are strong enough, but he is neither aware of my presence in his mind, as normally only my senses are engaged nor can he control when I am drawn to his mind. So as you see there was nothing for me to tell you. As long as he doesn't know that something ties me to him I am quite safe."

With dread the two Borgias listened to the words of the... newest... member of their family. When Harry had made it clear to them that he intended to meet the newest self proclaimed Dark Lord they had feared such a meeting – and just what it implied that Harry was so ...eager...to meet the man. Now though the cause for his eagerness became apparent – and their own uneasiness grew. If what they feared was true, and they had no doubt that it was, than Voldemort was the one Harry was bound to; Voldemort, one of the two Harry had seen binding hi, Thanatos, to his will.

"You mean to tell us," the younger Marcello hissed, his eyes darkening in anger, "that you knew what that man was able to do to you and yet you insisted on meeting him? That you willingly placed yourself into his path and risk not only yourself and the family out of somemisguided notion of arrogance or pride? Do you have any idea what your behaviour could cost us? If it wasn't..."

Bevore he could continue Marcello was stopped by his fathers hand on his arm. Looking at the older man questiongly he immideately stopped speaking. For moments all three men were silent, before the oldest spoke, softer and much calmer than earlier:

"What do you know of Thanatos, child, what do you know of the Guardians, what they are, what they can do, why they are?"


	38. Chapter 38

Back to the future 38

A slightly puzzled look on his face Harry answered his great grandfather.

"I know only what I was told by one of my parent's friends – and that wasn't much. He told me that Thanatos is one of four possible guardians, Ares, Harpyia and Pandora are the others. At all times only one of the four is aware – that is till he or she calls the other three… Each of them, of us, have a group of …servants, mine are the Ceres, Banshees and others like them as well as the Necromancers. All undead follow me, everyone dyeing enters my rule. With the right chant everyone, be they magical or not, is able to summon us and bind us to their will. Only the one that is awake can call the other three.

When all of us are together and awake destruction follows and everything we or our "masters" perceive as a threat will be utterly destroyed; but even when only one of us is awake and loses control blood will drench the earth…especially if the one is either Ares or myself, Harpyia and Pandora normally spill less blood but leave just as much devastation in their wake.

We are both harder and easier to kill then none-Guardians and once we are aware only the one who summoned us or one we asked to stop us can kill us, that is apart from the other three.

Together we are commonly referred to as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and most believe that we will only rise at the end of the world when the Seven Seals are broken."

For a moment the Borgia patriarch sat silent, pondering what the young man had just told him and his heir.

"What you know is both more and far less than what was told in the scrolls. The Guardians are much more than a personification. They are as close to gods as exist – and at the same time they are as human, as mortal as the rest of us. Only the chants of death, war, famine or pestilence can wake you to your full potential – till that moment you will only be a guardian; but once called you will be Thanatos, will be Death. You will lose much of what makes you human – but then you will no longer be _just human._ Yes, you will continue to be mortal – that is as mortal as you are now – but you will beat the same time more and less than human. I do not know how exactly you will be affected, but the phrase ` losing once humanity' was first applied to the Guardians.

There are two forms of binding; the first is the one you asked us about: someone uses the chant of death and calls Thanatos to the forefront of your being while at the same time binding him to the caller. This form is so close to magical slavery that I believe that it is where all spells pertaining magical slavery originate from as this chant predates them all.

Should you ever be bound this way the family will find a way to kill you, no matter what the cost, as the binding is till death and you will already have ceased being Harry, worse yet, you will have your memories and knowledge but your only thought will be to follow your masters orders.

The second form is nearly the opposite of the first; it also calls Thanatos to the forefront but it does not suppress the personality of the Guardian like the other does. Only a selected few are able to call on a Guardian in this way, there is a second spell that identifies who those will be. Out of these persons one is chosen to act as an anchor for the Guardian. While still bound the Guardian would not be controlled by his anchor in any way as that person is only there to prevent the other binding from being able to take hold.

The downside of this binding is that you will be at the mercy of Thanatos instincts. Suddenly you will be Death, now you should only feel a shadow of those same instincts, only have a notion of what it would mean to see life as a preliminary step to death. As Thanatos though you will see everything only as it relates to death. In the worst case you will lose yourself in death and will no longer see the value of life, in the best case your humanity will be strong enough to suppress death enough for you to still enjoy life.

So while we will call Thanatos forth when the time comes we will only do so at the last possible moment as there will be no going back once you, he has been called. Hopefully you will only become a little bit detached from everything and not the next Dark Lord… and most of all let us pray that you will be able to resist the pull to call your siblings and there will be a constant pull, a need to be with others like you, to be once again surrounded by those who share your destiny."

For a moment Marcello VII paused in his words, allowing the enormity of what he had just said to sink in before he continued, his voice soft and coaxing:

"Do you now understand why my son was so furious that you did not tell us of this connection you have with Britain's newest Dark Lord – for it is Voldemort, the man you were so eager to meet, whom you are connected to, is it not -, that is able to exert such a control over you.

Imagine what he could do to the world by torturing a Guardian, awake or not, into insanity. Or worse yet torture you just enough that you give into temptation to call on your siblings. It would be bad enough if you were just an ordinary wizard of ordinary power but as it is you are anything but. You are one of the most powerful, magical as well as political, wizards alive.

As such you have to mention something like such a connection to us so that we can prepare to aid you. Had not Callisto known to call a family-meeting and placed therefore all who were needed to help you in one place we would have been too late to safe you and you would have died, leaving your young fiancé with your corps and the world in need of a new guardian – not to mention leaving your friends and family bereft of your presence.

Now that we know of this connection we can search for ways to counter it or – should that prove as impossible as you claim – to at least combat the symptoms or simply eliminate the cause."

The Borgia heir watched the young man whose life he had just helped save as his father spoke. While he was still angry about what had happened he was no longer furious now that he knew that the other had just not known in what danger he really had been. It was still difficult for him – and he was sure that it always would be – to reconcile the young man who was barely an adult with the power he held.

Yet as now looked at him, still pale from the earlier blood loss and close call, he saw for the first time something other than a powerful member of their family or Guardian instead he saw a weary young man who was scared and valiantly tried to hide it. He saw someone who could be his son and who could desperately need a father. Yet as much as he cared for the young Guardian he was not sure if he could fulfill that role. His own children were of the same age as Harry that was not the problem; no, what made him hesitate was not Harries age, or that he only learned a short while ago that he was a Borgia.

No, his hesitation was explained much easier: he feared the power the younger man carried. He supposed that this was the feeling others had when they thought of his family. Though for him this feeling was much more personal: as a Necromancer he fell under the rule of Thanatos – not as directly as the dead themselves but enough that he would feel… uneasy to disobey him once he was called. Even then, while Thanatos was still … unaware… did he feel unsettled to speak against Harry.

As soon as he had heard of the position of an anchor he had known that he was not a possibility, the most he would ever be able to be to Harry was a friend, an uncle or cousin but never a father. Part of him whished that he were able to feel differently but a larger part was glad that he would not be required to act as a father figure for the young man before him.

-"-

Long after he and Bellatrix had been left alone by his family Harry knew that the discussion he had with his great grandfather and great uncle was far from over, worse yet, he had even had to explain to his fiancée just what had happened earlier that day to him – and to say that she was angry was stating it very lightly. Nothing he had said could convince her that it was the first time that an attack had been as bad, that he normally only had a very bad headache. No, she was convinced that he lied to her because he felt that she was either too young or not trusted – or both; not even when he tried to tell her that no-one, not even he himself had known about the possible severity of the attacks had she been appeased – quite the contrary.

Frowning Harry burrowed further under the covers of his bed, cursing Voldemort in his mind for destroying the first date he had had with his future wife. When they had finally left Italy Bellatrix may have calmed down from her earlier shouting – and hadn't that reminded him of the Bellatrix he had known in the future, minus the baby-voice of course - but she had still been visible angry with him. Worse yet, as she left his room she had donned her aloof Black mask, seeming indifferent to all who did not know her.

He hated that mask. Hated that he was the one who caused her to resort in its safety, no matter that he had had no control over the circumstance that caused his fault.

Absentminded he grabbed one of the vials of blood replentisher his great great aunt had left for him, his cousin had told him before he left that he had to take two vials every day, one in the morning and one before bed, for two weeks and that he was forbidden from taking any other potions for the first week. He knew that he had lost too much blood, he knew that it was for his own good not to take any other potions - and yet he longed for at least a whole bottle of dreamless sleep to forget the past day, most of all the acts of murder and torture he had been forced to .


End file.
